Close Encounters 25
by chezchuckles
Summary: Role of Honor. Now that Spy Castle and Beckett are back home after Paris, the process of healing their family's separation anxiety can begin.
1. Chapter 1

**Close Encounters 25: Role of Honor**

* * *

for those of you who keep asking  
and for Jessie - whose obsession with the spies is legendary

* * *

_The last of the sunlight across her face, the beauty of the white sheets against her golden skin and the day fading - just one sketch he will hold in his mind's eye forever, never able to get exactly right._

_He wants to paint her, but he never gets it exactly right._

_He wants to draw these lines of her that love him so much, but for all the chroma he can stain to the page, none of the colors quite recreate her intensity._

_He wants to immortalize her very breath, but it is all impossible._

_She rolls over in bed and drapes herself over him in sleep, and he thinks,_ today is the day. The interview will go well; I'll get the job; our dreams will come true.

_She touches her lips to his throat and hums something sleep-drenched, something about, _don't be late_, and he murmurs back, _no, never_, and she slides her knee between his and settles deeper._

_It's only six in the morning, but it feels like he has lived a whole week in the warm stretch of her body against him._

* * *

Castle pressed the pen into the period of that last sentence, harder than he should, and then had to release it. Let it go.

Back on the regimen meant long hours of waking darkness, the house asleep around him. He got a lot more done, of course, and he was awake if she needed him - but she didn't need him.

She needed sleep. Lots of rest. A full night without being bothered. They had a routine now, and he kept to it because he could see how it healed her, but he missed her body, missed their connection, the healing _that_ gave them too.

It would come in time.

Until then, he kept vomiting words into her journal. Actual stories. An artist who craved paint and palette and his wife. Castle knew it was himself - and not himself - and Kate - and not her either, but it was a poor proxy for all the things he wanted, ached, craved.

He closed the journal and rubbed his hands down his face, put his elbows on his knees and sank into his restlessness.

If he could just-

"What are you doing in here?"

He lifted his head and saw her standing in the doorway to the office, her face framed by the light in sleepy creases. She shuffled inside with a yawn and came to stand between his knees, forcing him to sit up straight, his hands falling to her warm hips.

"You can't sleep?" she asked around a yawn.

"I slept. Done sleeping," he shrugged. He was faintly ashamed that she'd woken alone and had to come in here to find him.

Her arms hooked loosely at his neck; she glanced over at the desk where the journal was still open. "Did you write me another letter?" she murmured. There was something shy in her voice that came out because of her sleepiness. She sank down onto his thigh, pulling her feet up into the chair, leaning against his chest.

He drew his arms around her, a little overwhelmed, unable to speak.

Kate picked up the journal with two fingers, already reading it before he could stop her.

"Kate, it's not-"

"Shh," she murmured, her head bowed over the journal. "Let me read."

"It's not a letter. Just a guy in a story-"

Her hand came up to his mouth, rather haphazard as she did it blindly, silenced him.

He swallowed thickly. It wasn't like the elephants. Wasn't a letter he'd written to her; they were just words. Words that kept coming no matter what he did; they just stuck around, over and over in his head on loop until he got them out.

The exact phrases, sometimes the whole dialogue of these characters, word for word, went around the track of his head, wearing grooves into him.

She turned back a page, two pages, ten. She went back and back farther until she found what had been his beginning, words he'd written in a motel room before they ever made it home, words he'd transcribed here when they'd gotten home.

That very first night.

Kate was quiet as she read. His heart was in agony.

Her fingers stroked the page, skimmed the words, her hair falling forward and obscuring any tell she might have given. He gripped her knee and closed his eyes, tried to make it not matter so very damn much.

And waited.

"Rick," she croaked.

He took a shaky breath and glanced down at her.

She pressed her palm to his cheek, the sleep erased from her eyes, and leaned in to kiss him.

He was too tense to feel it much more than the brush of her lips.

"Rick, this is good - this is - a real story. This is _good._"

"I-"

"What happens next?"

"What?" he muttered, dizzy.

"What happens next? Does he get the job? Why does he want this office job so badly if he's always done studio work? Is he doing it for her - like, does he think that _she_ wants him to do that, because I don't think she does. I think she _loves_ that he loses track of his days to the process of creating art, I think she-"

"Okay, Kate," he said softly, touching her jaw with his fingertips. He could feel her questions before she even spoke. "She does, but you know how people are. They think they have to be better for the ones they love."

"He doesn't have to be better. He's already so much more," she whispered.

His thumb stroked her bottom lip. She closed the journal and pressed it against her chest, between their bodies, her head coming to rest at his shoulder again. He skimmed his fingers through her hair, surprised at how she shivered in response to him. But she didn't start anything, she just sat with him.

If she had felt better, she'd be trying to get his clothes off right now.

Twisted him up to know that. To _see_ it on her face, how she wanted him and couldn't do anything about it. Couldn't even feel good enough to _try._

"I'll write more for you," he found himself saying. "There's always something that wants out."

"You will?"

"You read it whenever you want," he promised.

"Do you write at night like this? Is that what you do when you're gone?"

"Gone."

"I wake sometimes and you're not there."

"God," he cracked.

Her arm snaked around his neck and clung to him, a touch of a kiss against his ear. "No, stop. Not like that. I just - wake up. I know you get out of bed because you don't want to wake me. Are you writing, Castle?"

"Yeah," he husked. "Sometimes. Or doing work for - the Office. But mostly this."

"Keep doing this," she murmured. "Please. I want to know what happens to them."

"I do too," he got out.

* * *

"You're not going in." Castle eased down beside her on the couch, shifted the baby to the cushion between them.

"But I could-"

"No." He gripped James's leg, tugging him back on the cushion. "Besides, it's just a disciplinary hearing with the Director. You don't want to be there."

She snorted at him, turning to pull her knees up into the couch to fence in their son. "Disciplinary hearing all alone? You want to face him without me?"

Castle shrugged, releasing the kid to lay his hand on her knees. "Gotta explain." He studied her face, trying to gauge just how tired she actually was.

In his father's distraction, James wriggled straight to the floor, flopping down and trying to crawl away. Kate moved to grab him, but Castle was faster, leaning forward to scoop the baby into his chest.

"Where you going?" Kate said softly, inching closer to them. She laid her hand on James's back, tugged his shirt down. "You don't want to cuddle with me, baby?"

James grinned, shoved his hand into his mouth. He tilted towards Kate and Castle let him go, judging her strong enough.

Almost. James seemed to collapse her arms when he went, but Kate had hold of him well enough. He'd have to be okay with that.

"So what's the story?" Kate said then.

He startled, thinking she meant the story in her journal he was writing (his mind always seemed to go back to it, to revolve around it, so that the things she said to him he found himself repeating so he'd remember and write down later). But she didn't mean that story.

She was squeezing James's knees to tickle him, and he was squirming, stuttering with laughter as he tried to get away. "Huh, Castle? What can you possibly tell the Director to explain all this?"

He winced. "I don't - know yet," he admitted. He reached out and cupped the boy's skull, provided padding for James's crash into Kate's chin in his writhing giggles.

"Stick as close to the truth as possible," she told him, ducking her head to avoid another squirmy-boy flail. "Easiest to remember. Plus we don't want Mason getting in trouble for this."

"No," he sighed. "Not at all." He gritted his teeth as James wriggled, his laughter breathless. But it had done the trick, and she stopped tickling him, so now the boy was limp and panting in Kate's arms, quieted down to mere wheezing.

Kate hunched over to kiss James's forehead, smacking kisses. James lifted his hands and got her hair, and for a moment, the two of them were locked together.

Castle reached over and untangled the boy's fists, laid his hand over the baby's belly to keep him settled. He didn't like her trying to wrestle James while she was still obviously not okay.

But Logan came tomorrow morning. Logan would figure out what Kate needed, how far compromised her health was now. Jim had been by today to help out, even Mitchell had come to their door to check up on them, and while that had prevented him from getting any real traction on a story that would fly, it also meant that Kate hadn't been able to do too much.

So the meeting with the Director was going to be sticky.

Kate placed a last kiss on James's nose and lifted up. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparking, but she looked out of breath, maybe even woozy. She ought to rest. She shouldn't be-

"Don't look at me like that," she said, pushing hair behind her ears.

She looked ten years younger with her hair like that, short and a little curly. She'd taken a shower this morning but he had helped.

"Mm, that's better," she murmured, smiling at him.

He sighed, lifting his hand from James and reaching up to tug Kate's hair. "Yeah, babe. Every time. You get to me."

She grinned, and something shy went over her face as she ducked her head. She looked like James in that moment, and it was like a kick in his guts.

"So your story tomorrow," she started. "You need to stick as close to the truth as possible. Tell them we were on a black ops mission that went south."

"And what about you?" he said.

"Say it was a gunshot wound. Say I was the woman in Luxembourg Gardens, and I'm recovering, and we're using some off-the-books resources."

Castle narrowed his eyes at her, but it was an idea - and he was clean out of good ones.

* * *

They had been home almost a week and she still felt like crap.

But she wanted to hold her son, and give him one of the last bottles they had left, and rock him to sleep tonight, just as she'd done last night. She wanted to live her _life_, be his mother, and now that James was worn out, she might be able to.

"You ready to sleep, sweetheart?" She stroked her fingers around his face, watched as he battled against the lure of closed eyelids. "It's okay, you can go. We'll be here when you wake, promise."

Castle sighed at her as he handed her the bottle, but he settled down to sit beside the rocker. She relaxed, glad he was acquiescing in this. She would comb her fingers through his hair if she thought she could hang on to James with one hand. But she didn't think she could.

Kate rubbed James's lips with the bottle and he opened his mouth around it, taking it eagerly. His hands came up and grabbed the bottle, fingers flicking over the plastic, making her job easier. She could hold him now with both hands, the bottle tucked in against her chest, and it seemed to work.

"Good, huh?" she murmured. She watched him suck on the bottle, his lashes so long, framing those silver-grey eyes. His gaze was resolutely on her, as if watching to make sure she wouldn't leave. "Still here. Not going anywhere. Besides, Daddy wouldn't let me anyway."

Castle laughed, shifted a little closer to them so he could wrap his arm around her leg. "True. Very true, little wolf. So drink up. You should've been in bed an hour ago."

As if in response, James kicked his foot out and caught Castle in the shoulder. Rick lifted his hand and grabbed his bare toes, wriggling, turning his head to kiss the little sole.

James giggled, his eyes locking on hers as if to share.

"Daddy's got you. That's what happens when you kick him."

James grinned around the bottle, lifted a hand off of it to wave up at her. The bottle dipped and Kate couldn't grab it fast enough to catch it; it bounced on James's belly and rolled off.

Castle grabbed it. He glanced up at her and then shook his head. "All right. We're done. Kate."

"No."

"Kate, I'm not kidding with you. Give him to me."

She set her jaw but Castle was already popping the bottle back into James's mouth and taking him from her. "Castle-"

"He's fine. He's tired and the bottle is halfway gone."

She gritted her teeth and gripped the arms of the rocker, but Castle was looking at her like he would mutiny if she pushed it.

He had been through hell for her these last few days; she couldn't do that to him now. Even if she had missed the last week's worth of bedtimes, she knew she had to take it easy so that she was still here for the rest of them.

Castle took a heaving breath and seemed to stand down. He nodded, his arms around James, and that deep satisfaction on his face was a kick in the guts.

She folded her hands in her lap and stayed where she was, not reaching for either of them even though she wanted to. She ached to reach for him. James had barely noticed that he'd switched parents; he was sucking on his bottle and draining it fast.

Castle was looking straight at her, not at the baby, and she tried to show him she was fine. She was _going_ to be fine, and she knew it was going to take time, and she was willing to do that for him.

She could do that.

"Put him to bed," she said softly.

He had the bottle in one hand, mostly empty, and she could see from here that James was asleep. Little legs were slack, mouth open, lashes on his cheeks. Castle was watching her as if he wasn't sure what she would do next.

"Put him to bed, Rick. And then me."

He let out a long breath and stepped into the rocking chair, dipped his knees to lean over her and kiss her cheek. "Thank you."

She caught his elbow, shifted to lay her hand on James's belly. The baby stirred and Kate leaned in to say good night.

She brushed her lips at his temple and let Castle go.

She was learning. She could do this - recovery. She could be good.

* * *

Castle startled awake, blinking in the darkness, sweat collecting at the small of his back. He was overheated by her body pressed against his - and a nightmare - but he sucked in a breath and drew his arm up around her shoulders, brought her closer. Lips to the top of her head. Slowing his heart rate.

Then he heard the baby.

He heard the baby, but he couldn't move. He had to take a second, even with James pitiful over the monitor, but he just had to hold her, had to reassure himself she wasn't collapsing beneath a park bench in Paris. The moonlight came in through the window, licking her cheeks and the wave of her hair, the light spilling down her collarbones and pooling between them. He let a breath ease out of his lungs and turned his head to the monitor.

The red spiked on a cry and Castle started to move.

He untangled his legs from Kate's, eased her back to the pillow. She was so worn out that she didn't wake, even when he dipped the mattress leaving the bed. He twisted the dial down on the monitor, and scraped a hand through his hair. He took a last look at Kate and then moved through the door and down the hall.

James had pulled himself up to stand, hands clinging around the bars. His down-turned lips twisted when he saw Castle, the cry cut off.

"Hey, there." He dusted his hand across the top of James's head, ducked to kiss the boy's cheeks. Not crying, just sad. "What's the matter, Wolf?"

James lifted his arms for his daddy and Castle gave up, hoisted the kid out of the crib. He tucked him close to his body and palmed the back of his head, swaying a little in the room.

"Dadada," James sighed.

"Yeah, I got you. Gotta be quiet, let Mommy get her sleep."

"Mom-ma."

"Hey, look at that. When did you learn how to say Mammy's name?"

"Muh-muh?"

Castle laughed. "Almost, baby. Very close. Mommy. Or you can start with Mama. I bet she'd like that a lot."

James had lost interest, burying his face in Castle's t-shirt and fisting the material, letting out a little pitiful noise.

"Hey, now, no need for that. I'm not leaving you alone. Mommy would kill me."

He sank down to the rocker and used his feet to push off, gliding back and forth, stroking James's back. The baby laid his cheek on Castle's shoulder and gave a long and trembling sigh, seemed to sink right back down towards sleep.

"You're so tired," he murmured. "I know you are. What woke you up, James? Did you have bad dreams too?"

He laid his hand on the baby's back, settling him, and it didn't take long for James to fall right back to sleep again. But Castle didn't move. The rocking was doing wonders to soothe him as well, the warmth of the baby against his chest and the soft noises he made while he slept.

Castle stroked the soft hair that curled a little at the boy's neck, brushed his lips over James's forehead.

The baby was asleep, but Castle was awake. He wouldn't be getting back to sleep tonight.

* * *

Logan actually hugged her.

She was too startled to hug back, and his embrace was strong enough that it rocked her off her feet. It sent her falling into Logan and he apologized even as he gripped her elbows and eased her down.

"No, I'm fine-" she started, but she was already being put in the armchair.

"I need to draw blood anyway," Logan said, shaking his head. "Sit."

"And from James," she added, glancing towards the baby. "Just in case. Make sure he's okay."

James was pulling up on the couch, his gaze steady on Logan, a teething ring in his mouth that he was drooling all over.

Logan laughed. "He looks like he knows exactly what I'm here for. Don't worry, Echo. Not here for that."

James grunted and dropped the teething ring; he took two lurching steps towards her and fell on his face. But he didn't seem to care. James crawled towards the chair and got to her legs, pulled himself up again.

"Mum-ma, Mum-ma," he chanted.

"Hey there, wolf. Want to climb up?" She offered him a hand even as Logan settled in front of them on the coffee table. He was already opening up his bag, digging through it. He pulled on latex-free gloves and moved for the equipment.

James fisted the hem of her shirt and she gripped his other arm, helped pull him up into the chair with her. James gave her a wide grin, looking pretty pleased with himself, and he squirmed down next to her, patting her leg.

She and Logan both laughed. James craned his neck and peered up at her, looking put out at her amusement. Kate cupped his cheeks and kissed him. "Laughing at you only a little, wolf. Sorry."

"Logan, thanks for coming," Castle said from the doorway. He came in from the kitchen and leaned over the back of the chair, taking Logan's hand in a firm shake.

"Like I wouldn't have," Logan muttered. "Besides, I figured the less that Echo has to be in a lab, the better. Right, kid?" He released Castle's hand and reached into his bag for the bloodwork kit.

James let out a screech.

Kate's heart tripped, and she shifted, gathering James up into her lap. "It's okay, baby. It doesn't hurt."

James stuck his fingers in his mouth, chewing on them, but he buried his head against her, huddling pitifully.

"Castle," she said quietly.

Her husband leaned over the back of the chair and took James - or tried to. James clutched at her, got her hair and her t-shirt, and Castle had to hover there until she could free herself of his fingers.

"Hey, wolf. I know you're trying to protect your mama, but she's okay. It doesn't hurt Mommy."

James leaned back, trying to get to her, and Kate lifted her hand, caught his hand and kissed it. Castle kept close enough so that James wouldn't be far, and Logan came towards her with the needle.

"Mum-muh," James whimpered.

"Castle, maybe take him out-"

"No," Castle interrupted. "He should see that it's fine. This is going to be a regular thing with us, Kate. Maybe it's startled him and made him cry. But it doesn't actually hurt you. Let him see that."

She frowned, Logan still hesitating before her.

"Fix your face, Kate. Show him you're not being hurt." Castle nodded towards Logan. "Go ahead."

Fix her face. Well, James was reacting to Logan's presence and the needle, but he also picked up on their tension as well. It wasn't about a needle, wasn't about getting blood drawn, but about everything behind it: her health, the regimen, what they'd been through. Only how could James possibly distinguish the difference? He couldn't. He just knew that Logan had drawn his blood too.

She fixed her face.

"James, it's okay," she told him, tugging on the little hand in hers. "Promise, baby. Logan's our friend."

"All right, Kate. Ready?"

"Ready." She smiled up at James and bared her own arm, giving her vein over to Logan. Most bloodwork could be done with a finger prick, but not the battery of tests they did for the regimen. The needle went in smoothly, and Kate lifted her head to Castle with a little grin. "He's much better at this than you."

Castle grunted and poor James looked back and forth between them, confused. Her husband held the boy loosely, and she rubbed her thumb over James's fingers.

"Hear that, Castle? I'm better at it than you." Logan gave Kate a scandalous look. "Just don't tell my wife."

Kate laughed and winked back. "No promises, Logan." James grunted from Castle's arms, apparently frustrated by being kept away from her. She glanced up at him and then back to Logan. "Honestly, you do realize we've never met your wife? Or the boys."

Logan pulled a face; she wasn't sure what that meant, but she glanced back at Castle and figured it out.

"Rick," she admonished. "Did you tell him not to bring his family?"

"I told him to keep them safe," Castle muttered. "And knowing us isn't exactly safe."

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes fell to her son, her little boy who was growing up with needles and bloodwork, science experiments and labs - but no friends other than his dog. Because it wasn't safe to know them.

"I'll bring the family," Logan said then. "Because I don't believe that's true."

She opened her mouth. "Threkeld-"

"I know you guys take care of your own. And it wasn't like I took a job with the CIA thinking it was going to be safe."

"Does your wife know?" she asked.

Logan filled the first vial and moved to put in the second. She should've been squeezing a ball or something, but Threkeld always said he liked it better if it came slowly. If the blood had begun to thicken. He thought, for the regimen's purposes, it was a better sample.

And it didn't leave her quite so woozy afterwards.

"Logan. Does she?" Castle asked. "No, James. Let Mommy finish."

She glanced up and smiled at her son, leaned her head into his still-clutching hand.

"Yeah, she knows," Logan sighed. "I told her a few months ago. That there was a project, a CIA project, and I was on it."

"God," Castle croaked.

"Not like that. Not Echo. I told her biological warfare, that's all. A lab in the city to explain why we had to move. She understands there have to be secrets."

"Bring them over," Kate said. James needed friends. He needed a life. They couldn't be these people. Who were they hiding from? The Collective, certainly, and Black in some cases as well, but it had been Kate herself who had told Castle they couldn't be these people, hiding, afraid, not living their lives. "Bring them over and we'll have dinner. We can say we work with you, that you've been our medical support team."

Castle didn't say anything, and Logan at least gave her the respect of maintaining eye contact, not looking to Castle for permission.

Her husband sighed. "Logan. The official story is that Kate was shot. CIA story too - so that means we'll have to go through a lot of those motions. Physical therapy, three months' leave-"

"Three _months_," she hissed, glaring up at him.

But it was her son that responded: James lifted both eyebrows, mouth opening in that 'o' of surprise.

Her indignation crumbled in the face of - well, that face. She laughed and shook her head, sighing at them all.

"Fine. Shit. Three months. Guess I should tell my father we won't need his daycare services."

"I'll let you guys talk about that," Logan started. He pressed the band-aid over her elbow. "Meanwhile, I'll get the bloodwork going. You still want to-" He nodded to James.

Kate winced, reality crashing back down on her. Whatever that 'mitochondrial byproduct' had done to her, they had to be sure about James. "Yeah. Sorry, little wolf. You too."

Castle adjusted his hold on James and Logan stood up with the sterile finger lancet. Gloved hands drew closer and the baby twisted in his father's grip, glancing up at Castle as if to say, _what're you doing?_

"It's okay," Castle said. He was so calm that it translated to James as well, who stopped squirming under his father's heavy hand at his stomach. He spoke soft words in his son's ear. "Good job, James. I'm proud of you. Stay just like that."

Logan took James's foot in his hand and lifted the bare sole towards him. It took only a second, and James gave a startled little cry, but there were no tears, no tears, just a downturned mouth and wounded eyes. Like his feelings had been hurt.

Logan stepped back with the sample and Kate lifted her hands to James, reaching for him. But Castle was turning the boy around and cuddling him, his wide hand at the back of James's skull and his mouth against James's ear.

His voice was so low it was only a hum, but Kate's heart eased and she dropped her hands, watched her son being comforted by his daddy. It was okay. They were fine.

She turned her eyes to Logan who was busily packing away their blood for transport. "Logan. Our house is one of the safest places in the city - other than the lab itself and maybe the Office. Castle keeps them _all _that way. So bring your family. We'll have dinner. I want my son to meet both of yours."

Logan flushed red and looked up at her. "All right. We will."


	2. Chapter 2

**Close Encounters 25**

* * *

_When he heads for the subway stairs, the wind catches his leather portfolio, snatches it up like a sail. _

_The artist's sketches are protected inside, of course, but he can't help feeling that gut-clench of panic: don't let them escape, don't take them from me._

Kate closed the journal and curled up on her side around it, closing her eyes.

She hadn't known how much she'd needed that today. Wasn't even a full scene; he had stopped somewhere in the middle of the Artist heading for his job interview, but she'd needed it.

She was tired, and she hated being tired - she was _tired_ of being tired. Everything was out of her control and every time she thought she was being so good, doing the right thing, there was something that got dropped.

Just like the man in his story. She was trying to do the right thing here, trying to sacrifice her own need to push on through in order to give Castle what he needed - her safe. Her alive.

But the wind kept snatching her portfolio.

She just wanted everything to be right again. She just wanted to be - to be his partner again.

That was really all she had ever wanted, even in the days before she had known Agent Castle, when he wasn't on her radar and she was a girl fighting her way through the Police Academy - being his partner was what, without words for it, she had been made for.

All she was now... were sketches in a notebook, caught by the wind, threatening to scatter.

* * *

"Dad. What are you doing here?"

Her father chuckled and reached out for James, took him straight from her arms in the foyer. "You're not supposed to be carrying him. And hello to you too."

"Not supposed - how did you know?" she muttered, frowning at her father as he came in through the door. He shut it after him, hugging James close as the baby babbled in his face.

"Rick called me, of course."

Of course.

"Logan said you failed a stress test," her dad went on.

"I didn't _fail_ it," she muttered. "I just... couldn't complete it. According to the heart monitor, but I swear I felt fine."

"You always are," Castle interrupted. He was coming through the living room with Sasha at his heels, and the dog slunk forward to greet Jim. Castle gave her a look; he knew she'd been carrying James. He turned to her father. "Logan said no heavy lifting. Until her heart muscle... until we're sure there hasn't been any permanent damage. Kate."

"Whatever," she muttered. "It was just to the door."

"Well, I'm here for a couple hours so you can sleep and Castle can head to his meeting."

She shot Castle a scathing look. "I don't need to sleep. I can take-"

"No. You can't," he snapped back. "Don't make me fucking order you to go upstairs. Just do it."

For a second, all three of them - four, even James - were poised breathlessly in the foyer. Kate stared at Castle as he glared at her, but all of his anger dissolved in seconds and he was wiping a hand down his face and turning away from her.

She watched leave wordlessly, his shoulders hunched, and then she heard the back door open again and slam shut. Sasha twined between Kate's legs and she reached automatically for the dog's head, scratching behind her ears.

"Well," her father said carefully. "Let's - uh - at least sit down."

Kate leaned back against the wall, her legs suddenly shaky, felt herself sink right down to the floor. Her dad let out a startled noise and moved to grab her, but she waved him off with a hand, bowing her head to her knees.

"I'm okay. I'm okay."

"Katie." She heard the frustrated note to his voice but she didn't look up at him. James was apparently trying to get down, and her father bent over; she saw her son in the sliver between her raised knees and then he was pulling up on her.

He clutched her jeans and grunted at her, wriggled his warm little body between her torso and drawn up thighs. She stayed there, dropping her arms to loop around him, leaning in to brush a kiss at his forehead.

"Mum-muh," he babbled. "Daddy. Daddy. Daddy."

"Yeah, you got it," she whispered. "Daddy is mad at me." And his worry over her was like a weight pressing her down.

She hadn't failed the stress test. She just hadn't had the energy to complete it; it wasn't that her heart was weak, it was that her damn muscles were.

_The heart is a muscle_, Logan had said. _It's not because I drew blood this morning_.

Yes, it was. Yes, it was.

She was fine; she wasn't - it was a relatively minor setback compared to being starved to death in Russia for thirteen days, compared to having a sickly predator attack her and take a chunk of her arm, compared to lying in filth and black darkness with every last reserve just gone.

Gone.

This was a fucking walk in the park.

"You want to get up now, Katie, or are you just going to sit there until Castle gets back inside and sees-"

"Shit," she muttered. "Help me up."

"I'll take him, first. James, come on. Get off your mama."

James was playing peek-a-boo in her shirt with the dog and wasn't at all interested in being dislodged. She had to peel his fingers from the straps of her bra where he'd clung, and then her father reached down and lifted him away. James kicked, whined at them both, but when her father set the kid down next to Sasha, he went for the dog, hanging on to her collar and standing.

"So pleased, aren't you?" she told him. "Okay, Dad. Help me up." She lifted her hands and her dad grabbed them and pulled.

She came up easily and James tilted his head back to look, grinning. Sasha was staying perfectly still, a good dog, her ears cocked back in attention towards James.

Kate glanced at her father, then the little boy grinning at her, then to the windows looking out over the back yard. She knew that Castle wanted her upstairs and in bed, but that just wasn't her.

She was going to be smart; of course she was. But she'd made these choices and they had at least led her back here, if a little damaged, a little battered. She'd known full well, probably had known better than Castle, and if this was the price for her son's beaming face and his cuddles and even his whining temper, then she'd pay the price again.

"I need to talk to Castle," she sighed. "Dad, will you-?"

"I've got the little wolf," he said quickly. "But are you sure?"

"No," she muttered. "But he's not getting away with it either."

She headed for the back door and her husband's foul mood.

* * *

Castle stiffened when he heard the door, but he didn't run. He felt like it, damn it all, but he wouldn't run.

Whatever she said, he deserved, and whatever _he_ said, well. She might deserve that too.

Instead of words, he got two arms sliding around him from behind and the press of her body against his back. His shoulders went down immediately, an instinctive response, and he gathered her hands in his, squeezing her fingers.

"Please don't yell at me about this," she said quietly. "I'm not completely irresponsible with my health."

He begged to differ. "You failed the stress test. Your blood pressure is too low-"

"My ECG was fine," she interrupted. "Castle, I spent the last week flat on my back, barely eating. I didn't have the strength to complete the damn test."

He gritted his teeth.

"Getting mad at me won't make me take it easy. Getting mad at me only pisses me off and then I try to prove myself by-"

"You're trying to kill me," he groaned.

"Don't say that." She hugged him a little harder, still talking into his shoulder blade.

"You have low blood pressure and your ECG wasn't fine - not the whole time."

"It ended up with normal rhythm and-"

"Please don't argue with me about this. Logan is a medical professional and he's the one who gave you the restrictions."

She was silent at his back and he let out a breath, drawing her arms tighter around him, tugging.

"No lifting anything over ten pounds. Limited physical therapy. Back on the prenatal vitamins-"

"I know," she said darkly. "I heard."

Then fucking _listen_. But he didn't say that; he swallowed it back. She had nearly died, and part of him was just still so damn grateful she was here to be stubborn and stupid about it that he had to resist the urge to fall at her feet and bury his face in her thighs.

No. She wasn't getting her way on this.

"Three months, huh?"

"For a gunshot wound - it's standard recovery time in the CIA."

"And it just happens to be how long Logan said I should be on restrictions," she murmured.

He tensed.

"You do realize," she kept going, "how that sounds to me?"

"Like punishment?"

She grunted and he heard the amusement in it. "Punishment, yes. And also conspiracy. Why did Logan come back to our house after doing the bloodwork and give me a damn stress test? Because you _knew_ I couldn't finish it, and technically I'd fail. You knew that, Castle."

He didn't say anything, and she withdrew her arms, untangling from his fingers. He sighed and dropped his hands but she was coming around his front.

"You set me up to fail. Just so you could put me in bed for the next three months."

He tried a smile, knew it was crooked and lame. "I always want you in bed," he said half-heartedly.

"And I want to punch you," she snapped. Her eyes closed and she shook her head. "No. I just - want you to _talk_ to me. Stop making decisions for me."

"I'm a damn bully; I already know. But you-"

"No," she said, holding up a hand. "I understand that you were scared out of your mind. I've been there, Castle; I've watched you die and me helpless to do anything. Okay? I know that bleak - bleak... I know. But that doesn't mean you get to order my life, order _our_ life around fear."

"It's not-"

"Don't," she husked. "Don't pretend."

He swallowed.

"You've been dreaming," she told him.

Damn it. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. It was a guess. You just confirmed it."

Fucking hell, sometimes it was so not cool to have a detective as a wife.

"Have you slept at all?" she said. "Because this morning I found you in the baby's room with James asleep on your chest and Sasha asleep on top of your feet, and you wide awake."

"I've slept enough."

She nodded and her fists loosened. "I'm going to choose to believe you, Rick, because I know you're not stupid. Because the regimen does stuff, and that's probably true. But please come back to bed."

He sighed. He just - couldn't do that. Not yet. "I will," he offered. Soon. Soon. He just needed to not be lying down, awake, his mind spinning.

She sighed back. "I need you to stop yelling at me. And start _talking_ to me. We'll make these decisions together, okay?"

"You won't pick him up."

Kate shot him a look. "It's completely bogus-"

"It's not completely bogus. I watched your heart stop, Kate. I watched my father jab a needle into your ribs - watched damn Colin Hunt shock you with the paddles in the back of that ambulance. It's not bogus. You can't strain your heart."

Her jaw worked, a flash of anger that he knew she was trying not to let loose. So what. He'd withstand it; he could withstand anything.

She was alive. She was alive to be pissed at him, and he'd take it.

"I won't - I'll do my best not to pick him up. If there's - an emergency, if he - you know what I mean."

Yeah, he did. And he knew it was the best he'd get out of her. "Okay."

"And I'll keep to the couch, let you fetch for me," she added.

He grunted.

She wasn't smiling, but he could tell that she was trying. "But physical therapy? How about we say training instead?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Training?"

"Limited training," she promised. "Get me back in fighting shape."

Fighting shape. He didn't like that.

"If the Collective knows, then I have to-"

"Okay," he cracked. Shit. "Okay. Fighting shape. I - I get it."

She nodded. She didn't even look triumphant, just wary. Weary. She looked tired and she was outside in the cold April trying to soothe him.

"Let's get you inside," he muttered, turning for the door, trying to herd her. Kate sidestepped him with a look, a hand held up to stop him.

"No. Let's finish this."

He scowled at her.

"What are we telling the Director?" she said. "You're meeting with him in two hours. I _know_ you used that sleeplessness to think of something."

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, realized too late that he was feeling defensive. "I - I'm going to tell him that we went after Black on our own, with asset intel that proved to be true. And that in the resulting... melee, Black got away. And you were shot."

Kate closed her eyes, then opened them again. "We're going to face censure for that."

He hoped so. Three months suspension, most likely, which would _keep_ her at home. The Director tended to do that, fit the punishment around the naturally occurring events - like her 'recovery' from a gunshot wound.

"We will," he admitted.

"I feel like you're setting me up again."

"I might be."

Kate gritted her teeth and then lifted her hand to his, waiting. He took it, squeezing, and then she led _him_ out of the cold backyard and into the house again.

He took it for unspoken agreement.

* * *

"Damn it, Agent Castle."

Castle kept quiet, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes forward. The Director stood and slammed his chair into his desk, came around to where Castle stood at attention.

"Walk with me, Richard."

Castle turned on his heel and followed the Director out of his office and down the hallway. The DC complex was rolling and vast, attached to the Smithsonian and deep underground for the most part. Castle thought he could still detect the faint trace of dirt in the recycled and purified air, this far below the surface.

"What am I going to do with you two, Richard?"

"What you deem necessary, sir," he responded.

The Director snorted and turned to look at him, but gestured for Castle to follow. They moved into a operations room, one of many on this floor no doubt, and Castle was suddenly privileged to a variety of open black ops that he most likely shouldn't know at all.

He kept his eyes on the Director.

The older man rubbed a hand down his chin and nodded towards the monitors. "We have 649 active sites. Did you know that, son? We have over three thousand assets - people being run by people just like you. And you're telling me that Mason had some unnamed source - that Mason in turn called you with that code - and you and Beckett chased a lead across the ocean with a six month old at home?"

"Yes, sir. Exactly that."

"You don't think I'm stupid, do you?"

Castle narrowed his eyes, refused to be cowed. "No, sir. But maybe I haven't made it clear to you what my father is capable of-"

"I have been apprised," the Director said shortly. His eyes glittered when he looked at Castle. "Programs within programs, black ops funding diverted for his own uses, attempted assassination of your wife. I know what he's done, but damn it, Richard, you can't go off on some damn wild goose chase."

Castle stayed silent. There was nothing to say to that.

"I know you, Richard. You want to handle it yourself, your own kind of justice. But I can't let you do that. Ordinarily, I'd look the other way - and don't you fucking dare quote me on that. But this man has CIA secrets he's spread all around the damn globe. Plugging the leak is only half the mission."

"Yes, sir," he said at the pause. It was required of him.

"No more jaunts across Europe. You see now, don't you?"

"I see," he offered.

"As a man with two boys, a father myself, I'm also going to offer you this - don't leave your son without a parent."

Castle froze.

"Don't be unapproachable, Richard. Don't turn him into you."

Fucking hell. "No, sir. Not happening. Beckett wouldn't let me."

"Good for her." The Director sighed and rubbed his hands together. "Well, you know I have to do this. You're suspended, effective immediately. Agent Beckett is suspended, effective immediately. We'll have a hearing in a week - she can send you as her proxy. Three-month suspension, Richard, and don't expect the hearing to clear you of it. It's a damn mark in your files, and fucking hell, Richard, the oversight panel could strip you of your command. You want that?"

"No, sir. I do not. Three months, sir."

The Director narrowed his eyes at him, but he waved a hand in dismissal. Castle nodded and moved away, heading back out to the hallway. He made fast work of the exit security and then he was back inside the Smithsonian, another tourist in a suit, before he found himself on the sidewalk.

He had a plane to New York in two hours and he had a fresh three-month suspension, a mark on his record and Beckett's too, and the threat of losing his post.

He was damn relieved.

* * *

On the plane, he fell asleep.

He hadn't meant to. He should never have let down his guard like that. But the relief of that suspension and the altitude, the feeling of gravity dragging at his guts during take off had done something to him.

He woke when Hunt shocked her heart for the third time; he woke on a hoarse plea; he woke when the rain ran down his face and blurred his view of his unresponsive wife, dead in the mud.

A flight attendant was at his side. "Sir, are you okay?"

"Fine. Dream. Sorry," he muttered, appalled. He rubbed a hand down his face and tried to manufacture some false cheer. "I could use a drink, actually. Any red wine?"

She smiled, nodding at him, patting his shoulder. "Let me get that for you." He knew her type, had pegged it the moment he'd gotten on board. She liked to help, liked to offer something to make it better. Something to 'ease his nerves' - and she'd be certain it would work and be happy at providing such a smooth solution - and never again think of him. Right out of her mind.

He'd learned his tricks early, elementary school really, figuring out who needed what and how to provide it, how to arrange for his way to hold sway, how to manipulate the response he wanted. He'd done it to the Director just now and he'd been doing it with Kate too.

He was a bully when he ignored her wishes to do as he liked; but he also had responsibility for her as an agent under his leadership, as a partner and a husband to her too.

He used it as an excuse. He knew it. He used his responsibility to bully her into doing it his way when it didn't have to be like that. A conversation - she'd asked him to talk to her and that had been her big issue before as well, the thing that had driven her to Tunisia. He had made up his mind and he'd shut down on her attempt to talk, and instead of being willing to see it from her perspective, he'd just said _no_.

No. No regimen, no John Black, no. Just no.

She'd been right, though. She had been _right_ to look at the regimen, right in assuming it would be vital one day. If he had never - then maybe she'd never - and then James wouldn't be their jungle parasite.

He might not even exist. None of this might ever have happened. None of it-

"Here you are, sir. Anything else?"

Castle blinked, saw the tiny black bottle with the red label inside a plastic cup. He took it from her, gave a choked thanks, and sat with it in his lap.

He had these dreams some nights... he had dreams where Kate told him they'd lost the baby, there was no James, they'd lost him...

And he didn't always know, when he woke up, if they were nightmares. There was such relief mixed in with all the grief. _We won't have to do that, I don't have to choose._

Those were the dreams that sent him out of bed and down the hall to stand in his son's room, watch the moonlight bathe the dog and run up to the crib, finally put his eyes on James and reassure himself the boy still breathed.

Not lost.

Castle pressed his hand over his heart where the tattoo lay under two layers of clothes, felt his chest thud in time to the scared scatter of his thoughts.

James. The boy made from dreams, the boy made in furious helpless angry grief one night in a tent in the jungle, desperation so thick it had been all Castle could taste for weeks.

Desperate love. Trying to chase her down before she did something terrible.

Castle sat staring at the bottle in his hand, the little plastic cup, still felt the beating heart of the wolf under his other palm.

The red wine wouldn't put a dent in him, but he wished it would.

He needed a dent put in him.

He was going to call King.

* * *

Kate watched Castle come in the front door from her spot on the couch. James was asleep on top of her chest, sweaty little cheek against her collarbones, a fist in her shirt, a foot in her ribs. Nap time. He'd conked out only a few minutes ago.

Castle talked softly to her father. Her husband looked tired, worn at the edges, and she hoped he would sleep tonight. There had to be something she could do to help. Despite being on restricted activity.

When he turned to the living room and stepped inside, his hands were loose at his sides and his eyes were clear, but there was tension on his face.

She lifted her eyebrows, her palm cupping the back of James's head. She couldn't sit up to move the kid off, wasn't allowed, but she twisted her neck on the pillow and kept her eyes on Castle.

He sank down at her hip, patted her thigh almost awkwardly.

"Castle?" she whispered.

"We're suspended," he croaked. His head bowed and he ran a hand through his hair, but he didn't look at her.

"What's wrong? Castle, tell me what's wrong, because you knew that would happen. We knew it would come to that," she insisted. She felt sick suddenly; she didn't understand that look on his face, the grief.

"Can I - take him?" he said suddenly, turning to her. His hands hovered over the baby and Kate lifted hers, silently giving in. The weight off her chest gave her a deeper breath and she pulled at her shirt, fanning a little air against her sweaty skin.

Castle stood.

She had expected him to hand off James to her father, but no.

He didn't do that.

He cradled James against his chest and walked with him, away from her, heading for the stairs and the boy's room. She could see Castle taking deep breaths, hands dwarfing the boy, mouth at James's ear as he moved.

Kate sat up slowly, blinking.

Castle disappeared.

Something was wrong with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Close Encounters 25**

* * *

Rick Castle found himself writing the story in his head.

He didn't want to be doing it, but the words filled him up. He couldn't stop them, they needed to be gone, not inside him anymore, and he had to - had to do something about it.

James was asleep, had been when Castle had gotten home from DC, the boy already deep into his nap.

Still Castle held him. Couldn't let go.

But he stood slowly, so slowly, and eased open the door with one hand, crept down the hallway. He found the journal open on his desk in the office (she must have been reading it while he'd been gone and that terrified him in a really dark and desperate way), but he picked it up, and the pen, and he ghosted back to the baby's room.

James never even stirred.

Castle sank down in the rocker and awkwardly opened the journal on his knee, used his left arm to hold James against his chest and his right to hold his page. He flocked his thumb against the ink pen to push off the top, touched the tip to the blank space with a relief that scared him.

_She never asks him, 'why can't you be like other husbands?' She never says, 'at least come to bed with me and pretend to sleep.' No. She kisses him in the studio, lips filled with a longing he can taste, and she glides right out, goes to bed alone, falls asleep alone._

_While he sketches._

_Endlessly._

_He has no night. It is all brilliant day and the ache like a hunger, like an open mouth in him._

_And then the sun creeps up the horizon and he looks up and she's standing in the doorway in just one of his shirts and looking at him like she's never seen him before, like she doesn't know who he is. He blinks and it's morning, there are five new sketches and a canvas he can't quite fully explain, slave to the regimented process of art._

_She looks a little stunned. She doesn't come into the studio._

_She turns her head as if she's heard a noise behind her and then she leaves completely, not even trying to come inside._

_In that moment, the Artist wishes he had never picked up a pencil. He wishes that his father had never taken him, at only five years old, into his studio and put the tools in the boy's hands, impatient but unflagging, strict and dominating, so that the only recourse for the boy was art, art, art._

_Art is freedom. But it is also chains._

_She's gone and the Artist is alone but for lines on a page, the image of her smile like a cruel joke, like something that lives only in his head._

* * *

She kissed her father good-bye at the door and shook her head at the look on his face.

"I'll talk to him," she promised.

"You sure? I could-"

"No, Dad. You were supposed to be home hours ago. Thanks for staying."

"I'm just down the street if you need me, Katie."

She squeezed the hand still in hers and her father finally let her go. She closed the door after him and leaned against it a moment, gathering her energy.

James would wake from his nap soon and still Castle was up there with him, hadn't come back down. She had gone upstairs and watched him rock the boy in the glider, but he'd barely met her eyes.

He looked ashamed, and it hurt her heart to see it, but she wasn't sure she could make it better.

Should she go upstairs now to get it out of him, or hope he worked through it in that rocking chair, holding his son?

If he had needed her, he'd have stayed downstairs with her.

So Kate lifted up from the door and headed for the kitchen. Sasha was asleep in front of the basement door; the cool air from below coming in under the crack made it a favorite spot. Kate bent down and picked up the water dish, went to the faucet to refill it.

As the water ran, she got lost.

Lost in what they'd done, what had been done to them, lost in the wilderness of Paris and Cologne and never where they should be, lost in weakness and exhaustion and horror.

Being home was supposed to have fixed this. Fixed her. Being home should have made everything right again.

But everything was broken. Her normally independent boy kept circling back to her as if to check she was still in the room, and her husband was distant and angry and filled with such terrible grief. Her own body was breaking down at the worst times, and she just wanted it to be over.

Consequences. This life she'd chosen had consequences and she was reaping what she'd sewn.

Kate settled the dog's dish on the floor under the counter, and then she moved to the basement door and sank down beside her dog.

Sasha yawned and lifted her head, opened her eyes slowly to look at Kate. Another wide yawn and then the puppy was rolling over into Kate's lap, flopping all over her. Kate laughed, surprised enough that two tears rolled down her cheeks. She swiped at them and buried a hand in the dog's thick ruff, taking a deeper breath.

She had everything she'd wanted. Justice for her mother, after a fashion, and a life of her own, a family, a good man, their happy little boy. Even the dog, the house. Even the friends who surrounded her like family. Her father's sobriety.

She had it all.

But she felt wretched.

She didn't want to do this any more. She didn't have the strength.

She just wanted it to be over.

* * *

Castle came down the stairs to start on dinner, carrying James in his arms. The boy had woken only a few minutes ago and he'd changed the kid's diaper, put him in a fresh clothes, figured it was time for them both to join the land of the living.

The journal was safely back on his desk.

He'd held James for an hour, writing what he could, and it had at least made him feel marginally less shitty. He was here now, he was trying to be a good father, but it couldn't erase those moments in Cologne when he'd told her he regretted this.

The wolf tattoo beat at his heart. His son's little hand patted him as if in reassurance, and his sleepy, heavy body cuddled close.

Castle settled a hand at James's back, stepped off the last stair, and mentally reviewed what ingredients he might have available. He'd have to pull something out of the freezer. He should get to the grocery store soon.

Damn it, he was exhausted just thinking about it.

He stopped short in the dining room, his mind clicking over from dark rumination to the sights and smells that assaulted him in the kitchen.

Kate was at the stove, barefoot, hair pulled back in a spiky pony tail, wisps framing her cheeks. Stuff smelled good and his stomach growled in response and she was turning to him with a little smile.

"Good nap?" she said, winking.

Winking.

God, what...

"Yeah," he got out. "Good."

"I'm making chicken and dumplings. Tried to cut down on the salt, but I figured we could use some comfort food."

"Comfort food," he echoed.

She made a face and shifted from the stove, came to him and kissed James's cheek. "Yeah, comfort for me anyway. My grandmother made chicken and dumplings. It's her recipe. Called my dad for it."

"Oh. It - smells really good. I was... I wasn't sure what to do for dinner. Now I don't have to think about it."

"Everything okay?" she murmured then. Her lips moved to brush the back of his hand and she gave him a beautiful, shy smile. "How's my guy?"

"Yeah, he's fine. Little more clingy than usual, but I just - I held him the whole time."

"Meant you, baby. Come sit down." She guided him into the kitchen and through the wonderful scents and boiling things and the taste of salt on the steam. He sank down at the kitchen table with James rousing, lifting his head to look.

"I'm okay," he told her. "Just - you know - it was a rough week. Now that we're home and safe - I think I'm just crashing a bit. It's not you."

She stroked her fingers through his hair, kept a grip at the back of his neck. "We're not gonna be these people any more. Okay, Rick? We're not. We've got everything we wanted, right here, and we've gone through hell, we really have. But we're through the nightmare. I don't want this festering between us-"

"I know," he interrupted. "Me either. I called King."

She stood up straight, eyebrow lifting; her mouth opened but nothing came out.

He nodded and settled James on his lap, facing out to see the kitchen. "Yeah. We gotta get ahead of this. Because you're right. We're not these people."

She sucked in a breath and let it out again. He could see Sasha curled up in front of the door, head on her paws, watching them. Even James had grown still.

"I feel guilty as hell," he started. "And I said some terrible things about - about wishing he'd never been born. And you died. You died at least twice and I'm not sure I can ever get over that. But I made you a promise, Kate, and I won't go back on it."

"What - which promise?" she whispered. She hadn't even commented on that thing about the baby. "There are so many."

He sighed. "I just - I love you. That's a promise too, you know. And even though parts of this just - shift around in me, make it feel unsteady - that never is."

"I know," she said fiercely. "I know. I don't doubt you."

He nodded. He doubted himself though. "I'm gonna try not to bully you, order your life around fear, to be brave, right? I'm going to work on that. But just - just don't forget that I love you, Kate, and my - my heart feels so..."

She was wrapping her arms around him, a little sob in her throat that he hadn't meant to put there. The baby trapped between them and her cheek pressed so tightly to his that he didn't know if they were his tears or hers. She clung to him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she chanted. "I don't want to keep hurting you, but I'm - I seem to be so good at it."

He broke out with a laugh, lifted an arm from the baby to wind it around her neck. He closed his eyes and breathed, forehead to forehead with her. "We both can do some damage. We know that." He swallowed and lifted his head from hers, looked at her.

She sank to her knees before him and James whined and tilted down, fell into her arms. She held him against her chest, but Castle got him under the arms and did the heavy lifting. Kate's cheek came to his knee and against his inside thigh, and he put James on his other leg, not proud that he'd sent her to the floor.

"We're gonna be okay," he told her.

"I know. But this part sucks."

He laughed back, a plosive from his mouth and not much else. "You died, and I'm so grateful you're alive, but I'm having trouble, Kate. I'm not - I've never cared enough to carry this kind of guilt and now it's eating me up. I have nightmares, dreams. I look at James and I love him so much it tears me up, because it feels like a choice. You or him."

She jerked her head up, mouth open-

"No," he gritted out. "No, don't say anything. I know - know what you'd say. I know what's right. I'm just trying to get there."

She shifted her eyes to James but thank God, at least she didn't try to take him. She seemed to get it, what he was doing, how he needed his son close as a reminder.

Kate lifted up and pushed her hand in against his chest, his heart pounding away under her palm. "Does this help? The ink."

"Yeah," he admitted. "Every night, every morning."

She nodded. And then her lips quirked and her fingers curled. "It would be no hardship, Rick, if you had to walk around shirtless for three months. To remind you."

He laughed. Fuck, wow, that - felt good. He laughed and just that he _could_ laugh, that he could watch her eyes spark with mischief as her fingers trailed expertly down his shirt and hooked in the waistband of his jeans-

"Woman."

"After dinner. Put the kid in the jumping swing. You and me and that ugly couch."

"Yeah," he croaked. "But-"

"You'll make sure I don't have to lift anything," she murmured, another smile.

He let out a breath and found himself finally smiling back. There was no quick fix, but this always helped. "Sexual healing," he murmured. And now she was laughing too and sliding up to sit on his free thigh, her arms around his neck.

James gave them both looks like they were crazy and he reached for Kate.

"I'm right here, baby. You don't have to worry. Daddy's got you."

* * *

They got a phone call from Mitchell first.

Kate took it. Castle was standing up at the counter with James against his chest and trying to eat his third helping, so Kate just plucked the phone right out of his back pocket. James followed her movement with his eyes and leaned out after her, but Castle chided him and tilted his body, and the dumpling on his fork went sliding right off.

Sasha had it vacuumed off the floor before either of them could move, and then she was an entirely happy dog, tail wagging and her nose nudging up against the counter for more.

"Down, Sasha," they both commanded. Kate frowned and hesitated even as she saw Mitchell's name on the caller ID, but she took the call and put the phone to her ear, hoping Castle had the sense to check the dog.

Were dumplings bad for dogs? They never fed her people food; it had to be the smell of the chicken.

"Beckett?"

"Mitch. Sorry. What's wrong?"

"Uh, we have an authorized visitor approaching."

"Authorized? Why are you calling then?"

"It's your therapist."

Kate let out a breath and lifted a hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh. It wasn't funny, but it was. "Mitch, I really appreciate the head's up on this one."

"Yeah. He's within the second tier security framework right now. I could-"

"Let him pass," she scolded him. "But Mitch?"

"Yeah?"

"I sleep better knowing you're out there."

"Holy shit, Beckett. Save that for the damn therapist."

And then he hung up.

Kate chuckled, pressed her lips together as she turned her eyes to Castle. He had James on one hip and was kneeling in front of Sasha, feeding the dog a few scraps of chicken.

"Castle!"

"It's cooked. We used to feed her cooked meat before."

Before James. When they had the time.

"Who was that?" he said. "Mitch?'

"Yeah, he wanted to warn us we had an authorized visitor approaching."

"Authorized?"

"Dr King."

Castle actually paled. His face went white and his smile dropped right off his face. Sasha scarfed the last of the chicken from his fingers and ran off with it, and Castle just stayed there, hunched over with James kicking his feet into the cabinets in amusement.

"Rick." She offered him a hand, thinking to help him up, on his feet at least, but he laced their fingers together and leaned towards her instead. She caught herself on the counter and wrapped her arm around his head, buried him against her stomach, his body at her thigh. "Hey, Rick, honey, it's okay. It's going to be okay. I'm glad he's coming."

"I told him it was fine until tomorrow."

"Well, if you sounded like you do right now, then it's no wonder he came early." She gripped his shoulder and lifted her hand to his ear, stroked its softness. "Stand up, babe. We're going to be just fine."

Castle tried to stand, but James was crawling out of his arms and down to the floor. Castle let him go, rising up beside her to draw his arm around her waist as James got to his cabinet and yanked it open. It was the only one they left unlocked, the only one not baby-proofed, because James had destroyed those first locks only two days after Castle had put them up - but leaving him one of his own had earned the kid's respect. He never touched the locked cabinets any more, and they'd put more complicated locks in place.

"What do we do about him?" Kate asked, nudging Castle's bicep with her chin.

"Let him stay?" Castle said. "I need him to stay with us."

Needed him to? "Okay," she said slowly. "Okay, but I don't know what we can possibly get done."

"We'll figure it out," he rasped. For a moment, he watched James drag plastic tupperware out from the cabinets and pound on them like drums. And then Castle turned back to his plate on the counter.

Kate went back to storing leftovers, quiet now in the clamor of their son's noise, and she was glad King was coming tonight.

She didn't know what was wrong with Castle, but she was pretty certain he didn't either.

* * *

King hugged them both around the neck; he wasn't tall enough for it, but he did it anyway, and James let out a mewling noise from amidst them. King laughed and pulled back, cupped James's face in his hands and kissed his forehead.

"You too, James."

Kate didn't know what to do, stuck in the middle of an embrace with a man who had always been steady, reserved, unflappable. And now he was taking their son right out of their arms and James was giving a little spurt of applause and clutching his hands together at his chest, beaming at them all.

King laughed. "Wow. What an empathic little boy you have. You're happy too, James?"

He spoke to James like an adult, a little adult maybe, but still old enough to know. James squirmed in pleasure in his arms, grinning his shy grin, hands still clasped together.

It was the most smiling she'd seen from their son since they'd left. And she knew Castle saw it too, saw the way he beamed for Dr King.

"Shit," she muttered, scraping her hair back behind her ears and ducking her head.

Castle sighed. "Yeah."

"Nothing wrong with a boy who picks up on the emotion in the room," King said to them. He was still holding James, an entirely incongruous picture - their therapist and the baby together, King in his dress pants and jacket and James in a green onesie that set off the blue in his grey eyes.

They shifted more and more towards blue every day, actually.

"He's been fussy and waking up at night," Castle said, frowning. "And that's us, isn't it? Our fault."

"Not your fault. He wanted you when you were gone and now that you're here - well, of course he's going to test the limits. It's fine to spoil him a while, Rick. Hold him during his nap rather than putting him down. But don't make it habit."

Kate gave her husband a pointed look, but he only rubbed both hands down his face, didn't look convinced. She glanced back to King but he was pushing right past them towards the living room, sitting down with James on the _floor_ of all places, and offering the boy a teething ring as James crawled all over him.

"It's all right, it's all right," King said quietly. "Come sit down. I'm not here to give you homework. I'm hear to listen."

Kate let out a breath and moved for the couch, but she had to stop and wait on Castle to follow her lead. When he didn't, she reached back and took his hand, pulled him after her to the floor with their son and their therapist.

* * *

She didn't know what to do. She'd never seen her husband like this, shoulders up near his ears, elbows on his knees, head bowed. James had crawled over to him and took hold of the pant legs of his jeans and was now pulling up.

"Da-da-da?"

"Hey, kid," he said roughly. His hand came out and cupped the back of James's head. His eyes were so tired that Kate ached for him.

But she didn't know what to do.

She glanced to King and he was watching _her_, and that surprised her. He smiled at her though and nodded to Castle. "Other side of things, huh? Hurts, doesn't it."

"What?" she scraped out.

"Watching the other one beat themselves up for something they really had no control over. For feelings they've had. For events. For life. Sucks, doesn't it?"

Castle lifted his head sharply, staring at her. She gave a ragged breath and nodded; she really didn't want to cry right now. She'd had a couple of tears and the dog had whined in her lap, but she'd made dinner for them and she'd felt like she was getting a handle on it.

"Yeah," she said finally. When she could. "Yeah, sucks."

"So, Rick."

"Fuck, I'm not ready for this," Castle grunted. He winced as James's little head came up, teething ring in his mouth. He dropped it to mimic, _"Uck?_"

"Nope, nope," Castle said, shaking his head. "You didn't hear that, Jay. Not at all. Mommy, remember? Say mommy."

"Mee."

Kate laughed, surprised again, and both her boys looked up, glancing at her. James grinned and tried it again, belting out _mee_ as he slapped his hands against the tops of his daddy's thighs.

"You're so adorable that I'll let you get away with that, JP."

"JP?" Castle said, giving her a look.

"You started it with the _Jay_ stuff."

"Like, the single letter J. Not like... some backwoods hick-"

"Shut up," she laughed. "Not that. Jungle Parasite. JP. I thought that's what you were doing."

"Oh, shit," Castle groaned, but there was something like amusement in his eyes. "I can't believe we've nicknamed his nickname."

"Hey, James. You like JP?" King said, tugging on the boy's onesie to get his attention. "That a good name for you?"

James wrinkled his nose and hammed it up, such a little dramatic thing. Kate had never seen him like this, working the emotions in the room, ducking behind his father's hand. Castle ran his fingers through the hair that still stood up like a mohawk on top of his head, petting it down.

James dropped to his knees again and grabbed for the teething ring, squealing _meee_ around it as he moved around the room. He always entertained himself and now that he'd entertained them as well, he was content to move rubber blocks from the basket near the television over to the floor behind Castle's feet, one at a time.

After a moment, the quiet in the room seemed unnatural and Castle sighed. "Fine. I'll start. We went to Paris to meet a contact of my father's. Kate had been taking the pills - you know about that whole mess with her foot and James - James starving?"

"Da-da-da-daddy-"

Kate laughed, unable to help it, and Castle gave the boy a slow, warm smile. But there was something behind it that spoke of pain.

"Hey, James. I hear you. Not starving now, are you, kid? Growing boy."

"You sound resigned," King said to that. Quiet. Purposeful.

"Yeah. You know. Shit happens. We had to - make some hard choices, and these are the consequences. But he's fine. He's fine, right? I mean, you could tell if he-"

"He's fine," King said soothingly. Kate kept quiet, recognizing the master therapist at work. He always managed to guide her straight to the painful heart of things with what sounded only like a conversation. He was doing it to her husband now.

Castle was nodding thoughtfully, his eyes on James. The boy came back to him with a red block and held it up, and Castle took it.

"He's fine, Rick. Do you see something we don't?"

Castle lifted his head and the desolation in his eyes rooted Kate to the floor, breath knocked clean out of her.

"I don't think I can do this," he husked.

"Castle?"

He wouldn't look at her; he stared at James. A breath came in and went out and the words chased after it like Castle couldn't bear to hold them in any longer. "There's something wrong with me. I don't - love him-"

"Castle."

"Like I should." He turned terrible eyes on her. "I just love you, Kate. I can't - don't make me choose."

Oh, God.


	4. Chapter 4

**Close Encounters 25**

* * *

King kept her away.

Castle had said, _I don't love him like I should. _And Kate had leapt to her feet and tried to reach him, but King had stopped her. _No. _Stopped her cold. _Sit down._ Castle didn't deserve it anyway, and he knew that.

"When did it become a choice?" the therapist said. He had risen to sit in the chair before him and now he leaned forward, mimicking Castle's elbows on his knees. Kate sank back in her seat; Castle let out a breath as James came to him.

"Rick."

"What?" Castle said, distracted again by the rubber block James passed up to him.

"Why is it a choice between them?"

Castle opened his mouth and then closed it. He frowned and took the red block, swallowed hard and tried again. "I keep trying but I - I'm not gonna be able to do what I'm supposed to."

"What are you supposed to be doing?"

Castle now had three blocks on his knee, all red, and James was handing him a green one. But then he paused and took it back, a shy little grin, and went away with it again.

"I'm broken," he said finally. "My father is - you know my father. That's the role model I have for this, my only example, and I've been kidding myself for a long time, thinking I could do this right. But I'm just - not enough."

"You're not enough," King echoed. Fuck, it sounded so stale and boring coming out of the man's mouth. But this was her _husband._

Castle had to take another block, this time red, and he added it to the three others on his knee. "I'm a broken machine, but I have - Kate - and I - it's the only thing I can hang on to."

"You have us _both_," Kate said heatedly.

He couldn't look at her. But he saw James turn his head and look, eyebrows going up, and then James lifted a red block to her.

Kate reached for it, but James took it back, turned and handed it to Castle, and went back for more.

"Rick, you're playing with your son," King said. "Would a bad father play with his son?"

"I'm not - it's not - fuck, anyone can go through the damn motions. My father went through the motions. He fucking fed me, clothed me. It's not _hard_. But I'm - I learned from him, and it's damn difficult to shake, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, because it just - it means all I got in me is for Kate."

He couldn't - couldn't look at her. And still the boy kept coming back to him, red block by red block, and now he had a little pile balanced precariously on his knee and it was going to fall. It was going to collapse.

"Your father doesn't determine who you are. You have choices, Rick. You've already chosen a different life."

"You know he had - one thing. That thing was me. And it wasn't healthy, it wasn't good for either of us; he - he got obsessive about it. Wasn't love, really. It was just - one thing. And I - that's what I have too. Everything in me is just - obsessive. For Kate. So that I - I didn't even want - I wished he hadn't been born."

"Oh, yeah, I did that too," King said.

Castle froze.

"When my son was two months old, he was really colicky, cried all the time. Oh, wow, he cried like you've never heard before. Well, maybe you have, but I doubt it. There's this place a baby can go that you just - it shouldn't be possible. They can't be soothed. They actually scream. Has James ever done that?"

Castle lifted his head, bewildered.

"No," Kate croaked. "No. What?"

"Screaming. It's not even crying. Just this awful, gut-wrenching scream. You want to shake him. Some people have - some will. Just to make it stop. You don't know how many times, in the dead of night with no sleep for weeks, my wife and I looked at each other with the same feeling. _What have we done_? We made this, it's our fault, and we want to give him _back_."

"What?" Castle rasped.

"He didn't stop for three months. And then it was like a magic switch had been thrown. At almost six months, he was fine. Perfectly fine. And we felt a little guilty and then we talked to other parents and realized that was normal."

"Normal."

"Normal human feeling. Not a machine."

Castle scraped a hand down his face. "But my father - it's - I don't think I can be what James needs. I'm going to be gone and away from him and I'm not - I'm not enough to - I can't do this."

"Kate." King said, and immediately she was straightening up, glancing back and forth between them. Castle averted his eyes and saw his son at his feet, felt the little fists he made as he pulled himself up by Castle's pant legs.

"Da?" He reached for one of the red blocks and the whole thing tumbled down. But instead of being sad, James let go and clapped, standing upright completely on his own.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Good job, kid."

"Kate," King said. "You want to tell Rick if you've ever-"

"Oh, God, all the time," Kate rushed out. "Castle. Shit. All the time. When I couldn't even _feed_ him? Fuck, I felt like the worst mother. You're not alone in that."

"That wasn't your fault," he hissed. "What I - feel is just missing. It's missing, Kate. There's nothing there."

"There's not nothing there," she whispered. Her jaw set, her eyes mutinous. "If there was nothing there, James wouldn't have anything to do with you. But look at him, he's always going for you. He wants you to comfort him. He-"

"He's a baby. He doesn't-"

"That's not true," King said fiercely. It was one of the most intense statements Castle had ever heard from the man. "He does know. You think you didn't know that your father had something broken, that he was missing that vital piece? You knew. You knew even at five and you did what you could to survive it. James would know. Kate would know. We would know."

He sucked in a long breath, watched as James scattered red blocks across the floor. "Then why did I - I didn't even want him. It was just Kate. I couldn't see past - and God, that's the worst thing a man can do, not want his own son? Fuck, does he have to be in here for this? I don't want him hearing this."

Kate gave a little noise and he glanced involuntarily to her. She was laughing?

"Baby, do you hear yourself? Because I want my son hearing that, I definitely do. You care what happens to him, you care what he's exposed to, even if it's you. You're trying to protect him from _you_, and I want him to know just how deeply his father's love for him-"

"Kate," he growled.

"No, don't shut me up. Because you're wrong. Having doubts, wishing it had happened differently, that's not _bad_. That's just life. You think I don't feel like that? My mother was murdered, my father became an alcoholic, and the worst of it is that - fuck, it gave me you. Would you love me at all if I wasn't just the kind of obsessive and broken person I am? Castle, I wouldn't have been a cop. We would never have even _met_. But I still - God, I still wish so badly my mother had never been murdered."

Castle stared at her, not processing for the longest time, nothing making sense - of course she wished it hadn't happened - and then the moment was broken.

James fell into his leg and Castle caught him by instinct, grabbed under his arms and hoisted him up before his cheek could hit Castle's knee.

James ducked his head and tucked down, leaning into him, and Castle put the boy against his chest, right over his heart. His son huddled there, maybe scared by his fall, wriggling down tighter and deeper into his father's arms.

"Regret doesn't negate your love for him," King said into the silence. "And Rick, you're a very good father. Surprising, actually, based on how little you had to work with. You have good instincts, just like that. Instincts for rescuing, for teaching, for guiding. You know when to comfort, when to instruct, when to laugh. Some people never figure that out."

Castle turned his lips to the boy's temple and breathed him in.

"But, Rick. You knew that. You're hiding behind that old mantra, _I'm a broken machine_, because it's easier than saying, _I'm doubting everything I thought I wanted._"

Fuck.

* * *

"What. The._ Hell_-"

"Wait, Kate, please. Wait."

She bit back the furious defense of her husband and sank back against the leg of the chair. King had stopped her twice now, _twice_, from going to her husband, and she was beginning to get pissed.

James's little head was swiveling around, staring at them from his perch in Castle's lap. From the floor, Kate held out her hand to him. "Jay, baby, can I have a block?"

He smiled and hid the block behind his back, ducked his head back to Castle's shoulder, completely confident in his father.

Nothing missing there, not at all.

"Rick. Would you tell me what happened in Paris?"

What did that have to do with the baby?

"I poisoned her," he rasped. "I got her pregnant because _I _wanted it, I wanted a kid, it was my damn dream, and I'm a fucking bully and I just - I got her pregnant and then my - my fucked up DNA, God, I poisoned her just so I could be a dad? And now it's not - even - it's not even-"

"What the _hell_?" she rasped. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Uck!" James lifted up.

"Shit," she hissed.

"It!"

Their gazes clashed and the tension shattered, and then Kate rolled her eyes and shut her damn mouth.

King better not be laughing. "Well. That was interesting. James is impressed. Are you impressed, James?"

James titled his head, as if puzzling out those words, and then patted his father's chest and squirmed down to the floor. When he got there, he pulled himself to stand using Castle's jeans again, grabbed the couch, started slowly working his way towards the blocks in their basket.

"I'm not impressed," Kate said. "I think this is - what are you even talking about? You didn't poison me. I chose this."

"I got you pregnant. And then I watched you die from it."

"I didn't die."

"Barely."

"And what? You _chose_ me so that makes you-"

"Kate," their therapist interrupted softly. "How about we try something else, please?"

She gritted her teeth and sank back, gesturing for him to go on. She expected him to ask Castle another question, but instead he looked at her.

"Kate, can you tell me what happened in Paris?"

She opened her mouth and realized she didn't - exactly - know. She knew but she didn't have words for it. There was... "I felt bad. I should've figured it out sooner, because it was the same kind of feeling I had with the pills before. But I thought, since Black was in the offing, that I was just having a damn panic attack."

"A panic attack? Those were your symptoms?"

"Yeah."

"Interesting. I hadn't realized. Well, makes sense you thought it was a panic attack. John Black has tried to kill you again and again. And he's working to destroy the life you've built - not just your own life, but your husband's. He's a threat."

She nodded.

"And?" he prompted.

"And I... felt bad so I pushed through it, like I always do. Stupid not to say something. But I sat down on that park bench - and then fell over. It just - everything went dark and far away and... it was raining."

"It was raining," Castle echoed. He looked like he was right back there.

She chewed on her bottom lip but suddenly she felt a little body smack into hers, draping over her back. She turned with a laugh and found her boy cuddling up to her, a green block in his hand. He gave it over and she took it, kissed his nose and gave it back.

"Go get daddy," she whispered, pulling him off of her back and setting him on his feet in front of her.

James took a step and fell to his knees, but kept scooting forward, went right for Castle. At his daddy's feet, he pulled himself up again and handed over the block.

Castle took it.

"And then?" King nudged.

She blinked and looked at him, finally figuring out what King was doing here, why he'd left James in the room. Without the baby, this would be - bad. This would be really bad.

"And then I woke... woke with John Black's face above me and I thought I - I was going to die. But I didn't die. I just... seesawed back and forth on that edge."

"I thought you were going to die," Castle said gruffly. He had his hand buried in James's hair, rubbed his thumb over the boy's forehead. "You did die. Off and on. But he - saved you. I didn't do a damn thing."

She opened her mouth but she didn't know what came next. It was true, but it wasn't true at all.

"Kate? Do you feel that Rick is right about that?"

"No. No, I - wouldn't have survived without you. You kept me there. Kept me. I was - scared, Rick. I was so afraid, but you would be there, you would be right over me and I could look at you and I could breathe again."

He lifted his head to her and his eyebrows knitted together, but he couldn't seem to come out with it.

She had to find the words. She had to. "It was just us and him. But I knew I'd be okay if you were there. And I know that's too much to put on you, that's not your responsibility, keeping me sane, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't do anything to protect myself from him but have you."

She faltered, and couldn't find it any more, and stopped.

It didn't feel like enough. She didn't know what else she was supposed to say.

* * *

She watched Castle as he made coffee, her hip against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Stop looking at me like that," he rasped, his face away from her. "It kills me."

"Sorry." She dropped her eyes and fiddled with the plastic bag of filters, stopped when she realized what she was doing. She put the filters in the cabinet and took a breath, closed the cabinet door.

King had given them a break, asked if there might be coffee, and Castle had escaped quickly. And then King had nodded his head towards the kitchen with a not at all subtle look pointedly in her direction.

So. She was supposed to say something. She just didn't know what.

"I'm trying, Kate," he rasped suddenly. "I'm trying to love him. I keep trying to get it back, that feeling I had when we left. But it's just gone. It's gone, but I love you, I love you and I swear I'll do everything I can to-"

"Stop," she whispered. God, it killed her. He couldn't keep thinking like this. "Stop, Castle. Don't. That feeling isn't gone. It's just that it's tangled up with so much _guilt_. Believe me, it's really hard to know what's real when you feel responsible for the worst of things."

"I feel - so - so damn guilty."

"You wouldn't feel like that if you didn't love him," she whispered. "God, Castle. Don't you see that? If you didn't love him, you wouldn't care that it's all mixed up, that it hurts so much. But you do love him, and you've somehow got it in your head that it's become a choice, loving me or loving him. It's not a choice, sweetheart. There's no choice."

Castle hung his head over the sink, his hands braced on the counter, leaning hard. "But he - I just - you were going to die, it was - inevitable - there was no way to stop it, nothing we did, and I knew - I knew I'd pick you. Not him."

"But that's not how life works, Castle, sweetheart. Oh, Rick, look at me." She went to him, pressed her body to his, wrapping herself at his back. "Castle, please. This is all just - theoretical at this point because he's already here and I'm here and it's done. All of it is done. And yeah, if we had been told this would be how difficult, that I'd nearly die, well we'd definitely have done things differently. As it is, I'm guessing that's a no on a little sister?"

"Oh, God."

She couldn't help laughing but he wasn't - at all - and she pressed her lips to his shoulder. "Sorry, sorry. He's the only baby we need. Probably all we can handle, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah," he scraped out.

"It's not a choice, Castle. Love doesn't drain from one just because you give to another. It's a renewable resource. It's - it's more the more you give out. Loving me, intensely as you do, whole-heartedly as you do, doesn't meant there's nothing left for James. And it - in a really twisted and sick way, Castle, it makes me feel special."

"God."

"Yeah. I'm a fucked up person, we already knew that. Which is why it's so special, that you love me like you do. And babe, you are a - the best - you're the best father. You're good for him. You know when he needs us, you're teaching him sounds and respect and joy. He-"

She stopped, bit her lip as she felt the little body leaning into her.

Kate glanced down and saw James peeking up at her. He had Sasha by the collar and was using the dog as a kind of walker. "Um, James, honey. What do you think you're doing?"

"Da-da-da."

"Yeah, Daddy's right here. Aren't you, Daddy?"

Castle let out a long breath and turned around, squatting only long enough to scoop the baby into his arms. He buried his face in James's neck and the boy twisted, glanced at her with something that looked like surprise or maybe even concern.

She nodded at him and mimed patting Castle on the back, and then James - exceptional boy - clued in and began comforting his father, slow pats with those little fingers, and such a serious face.

"We love you, Castle." She slipped in between him and the counter, her back to the coffee maker, forcing Castle a little more upright. "We love you and you love us. And what happened in Paris was - was awful. It was awful, and yes, I'm still so tired, and you're still in such a dark place, sweetheart, but we don't have to stay there. I'll get better and you'll get better, and we'll be better for each other."

He nodded, his face still against his son, but he untwined an arm and curled it around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"I'm sorry," he rasped.

"You don't need to apologize," she whispered.

"Wasn't for you," he husked. "That was for James."

* * *

They both sat on the couch now, though they were separated by James between them. Kate had coffee in a mug against her chest and her head on the arm, scooted down into the cushions; she was tired but she wasn't leaving.

James was watching a video on Castle's phone, entirely rapt. He rarely got the chance to watch television since they kept it off when he was around, and she knew her father, when he kept James, set up things for the kid to play with. He was such an independent child, entertaining himself, that they had never needed the distraction of video.

They used it now to keep him in one place, and Castle sat with him, a little stiff and upright, but apparently choosing... choosing love. Rather than separating himself from her in punishment, he was close enough to drape his hand over her ankle and rub the skin over her bone.

Dr King had the notepad out now, and it looked like he had used the coffee break to make an outline of where he wanted this to go. Kate shared a glance with Castle, a kind of _oh well, let's dive in_, and they turned to face the therapist.

"Let me apologize, first, because I said I wasn't here for homework. But-"

"We have homework?" Kate said, smiling at him. She was entirely too exhausted for this. Probably the point; King liked to be sneaky. Wear her out with all this emotion flying around, get her heart racing to defend her husband, and then she was left with this - her weakness - and she couldn't keep denying it.

"You have homework," he smiled back. "You're not going to like it, either of you."

"Oh, great," Castle muttered.

Impossibly, James lifted his head from the video, gave a kind of round-eyed look around, and then went back to his watching.

Kate shifted her foot to nudge the baby, watched as he was startled, glanced at her. "Hey, sweetheart. Is it fun?"

"Nuh-nuh-nuh," he echoed, smiling back at her.

Castle rubbed his thumb around and around her ankle bone and she turned her eyes back to King. "All right, don't leave us in suspense. What's our homework?"

"Kate, first, I want to ask you how you're feeling now. That was some pretty death-defying stuff."

She hummed an acknowledgement, putting out a search in her own body, trying to get an honest assessment. "I'm really tired. All the time. My joints ache. I wake up tired, which sucks, and they won't let me carry my baby, which sucks, and... and I want everything to be fine, but it's not. Which sucks."

"Do you feel tired right now?"

She snorted, lifting an eyebrow. She was practically horizontal on the couch. "Yeah. I'm tired all right."

"Castle mentioned needing to restart your heart a couple times. Do you remember that?"

"Um. Once, I think. Mostly just - falling unconscious." She shifted to sit upright a little more, but wow, it was a drag. James looked fairly sleepy too, hypnotized by the video on the screen. "What does this have to do with homework?"

"I want you both to keep a daily log. You've done journaling for me before, so you know how this goes. First, Kate, when you wake in the morning, record your health level, on a scale of 1-10. What you expect to accomplish, how good or not good you feel, the shape of things."

"All right," she said, already not trusting this. Felt like a set-up.

"And then at night, I want you rate your day 1-10, as it happened, being honest. Like today, for example, health-wise. How do you think you fared. If 10 was perfect health, like the way you felt after your anemia was straightened out, and a 1 was, well, dying in Russia, shall we say?"

"That's really not funny," Castle muttered.

But Kate was smiling; it was kind of funny. That she had a scale at all. "Mm, okay, well, tonight I'd say... um. I made dinner, standing up for that, snuggled with my baby, but I had my dad here the whole time so I was relatively sedate. But I'd say a 7." She saw the look on Castle's face. "Really. A seven."

"Very good, Kate. You basically told me out loud what I'd like for you to record in a journal. An accurate representation of your day. Do you think your father's help today, your 'relatively sedate' activity had any kind of bearing on that seven?"

"Well, of course," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Exactly. So that's what you'll be recording. Expectations in the morning versus actuality in the evening."

Uh-huh. He was going to show her how wildly disparate her expectations were for what she could actually accomplish. She already knew that.

"And then, Rick, after Kate has written her log for the night, I would like you to read it."

Oh?

"Read it?" Castle said.

"Yes, please. It will be an even exchange though. Because Rick, you'll have written a log of one day of your time in Paris."

"What does that mean?" he said. His hand around her ankle tightened. "She gives me her day now and I tell her about her day then?"

"Precisely."

"That doesn't sound helpful."

"No? I think sometimes that Kate, if you excuse my candid opinion here, often does more than she's capable. It's truly impressive, and a wonderful characteristic in a wife and partner - you know she won't give up, don't you, Rick? No matter what you say or do, she's fighting for you. Which is why you felt you could be so honest about your regrets - she's not going to stop fighting for you."

Castle let out a short breath, sucked in back in again.

"But you see the complement at work too, don't you? She pushes too far, she hurts herself, she does more than she should and all that hard work is ruined."

"_Ruined_-"

"So your time in agony, your pain and grief, feels like it's for nothing, dismissed out of hand, because she's just completely ignoring all your best advice and doing what she wants, blithely going about-"

"That's a little harsh," she interrupted. But she noticed that Castle had not.

"So, Rick," King went on, ignoring her entirely. "You're going to write it down for her. You're going to tell her exactly what it was like, what you went through, what happened to her. Because she doesn't know. You heard her - she was unconscious. She was afraid, but you were there, and you made it okay for her, and she could kind of whitewash over the horror of it all. That's a coping mechanism that works really well for you, Kate, wouldn't you say?"

"Denial?" she muttered. "Yeah. I'd say that's my best feature."

"Kate," her husband sighed, a glance of his eyes.

Wow. King was just hitting home runs here, wasn't he? He _knew_ them, he was digging into things Kate thought were trivial and sifting them into the light, and it turned out they were pivotal - vital - make or break for them.

"Each night, you exchange your written logs. Read them. Kate will find out what happened in Paris, what happened to both of you, and you, Rick, will find out how Kate's actually doing now - and _not_ still in Paris, not back there, but here. We're doing this because you both need to re-frame your stories. Neither of you are accurate right now, Castle because he's stuck in the past and Kate because she's warping her present. And just because you share the same future story, future vision, doesn't mean you'll get there together, not if you're deluding yourselves about everything else."

Way, way harsh. Wow.

Kate kept quiet, and Castle had a fierce grip on her ankle, and King didn't even try to soften any of that. He was looking at them straight on, and nodding to himself as he stood.

"Very good. Daily logs. For a week at least. That will cover the time frame of Paris, correct?"

"Mostly," Castle gruffed.

"Was it nine days?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Then nine days. Starting tomorrow. And Rick?"

"Yes."

"When your heart eases about Kate, when you're convinced she's on the mend, you'll find it easier to untangle the grief and guilt from your love. But in the meantime, give yourself a moment of joy with your son every day. One moment. And then write it down that night, on the same entry with your recollection of Paris. In the same breath, Rick, good and bad. Because that is life, that is fatherhood."

Castle looked hopelessly up at King, but he nodded. And then he rose from the couch and showed King to the door.

* * *

When he came back into the living room, Kate was curled up around James, her head on his little thigh as he watched his Sesame Street video on the phone. Castle took a breath and steeled himself for whatever happened next, headed into the room.

He stood there a moment and Kate closed her eyes, shutting him out.

He slumped to coffee table and put his elbows on his knees, wondered how he was supposed to fix this, what he said, his honesty. He shouldn't have with her in the room. He-

Her fingers on his knees had his eyes opening and she smiled at him. He was confused but he tried smiling back.

"It hurts me that you hurt so much," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could do something - anything - to make it right. What can I do, Rick?"

He shook his head in an involuntary negative, but her fingers tensed around his knee and he knew what he really wanted. He actually knew.

"Can I just - take care of you?" he whispered. "Just let me... whatever you need, let me - I don't know. That sounds so stupid-"

"No, no, I get it." She scratched her fingers at his knee. "I understand. Take care of me. Okay, okay, we can do that."

He nodded, his throat thick with it, and he lifted a hand to the baby, brushed the back of his fingers against his son's cheek.

"So, um, you could - if you wanted - carry me upstairs? I want to take a hot bath."

"Yeah," he said, his heart tripping a little. Overeager. "James, be good. Watch your video. I'm taking mommy upstairs."

"So not a good idea," she muttered, rolling her eyes at him.

"Sasha," he called. The dog came bounding in from the front entry; she had probably been in the dining room. He scrubbed the wolf behind her ears, loved on her. "Stay, Sasha. Make James stay too." He lifted up and looked at Kate. "Your chariot awaits."

She sighed, a little small smile flirting with her lips. "Okay, fine. But while I take a bath, you're down here with him, making that moment of joy happen."

"That's the most ridiculous-"

"You're gonna do it. If I'm going to have to read about Paris, then I want that moment of joy to read after it, Agent Castle."

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered, pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

He stood up and she came up with him, easily; he turned for the stairs and she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled in close.

"You're a good man, Rick Castle. Please remember that. You're a very good man."


	5. Chapter 5

**Close Encounters 25**

* * *

The bath had about done her in. Kate could barely move when Castle came back to drain the tub and carry her in to bed. She had suggested him carrying her to bed nearly an hour ago because he had seemed to need it, to need to _help_, but she had found that she herself needed it, thoroughly wiped out.

He laid her in bed and drew a t-shirt over her head, kissed her jaw when she tried to open her eyes and reach for him.

"Sleep," he murmured.

"Early," she muttered back, but she couldn't seem to stay.

"It's okay, you sleep."

She slept and woke again when the mattress dipped, felt his arms around her. She was in and out of it, pulled sharply awake once with a gasp, not sure why, but then Castle was climbing back into bed with the baby.

"What's wrong?" she mumbled.

"Don't know," he whispered. "Sleep, Kate."

She slept, her face against his shoulder, still half concerned for her son.

When she woke the next morning, sunlight was filling the room and the dog was in bed with her, cozied up. She hummed and curled her arm around Sasha, tugged the wolf closer. Sasha nosed into her armpit and whuffed, lifted to lick her neck and chin.

"Hey, puppy."

"You're awake."

She rolled onto her back and saw Castle in the doorway. "I'm... awake. What time is it?"

"Nine."

"Oh. I missed his bedtime _and_ his getting up this morning."

"He's okay." He turned his head and called back down the hallway. "James."

He had better have the baby gate up on the stairs.

"James, come see mama. She's awake. Come on. No, son, leave that there. You don't need it. Mommy wants to see you."

Kate shifted to sit up in bed, but she had to stay relatively low when the world tilted with some residual dizziness.

James came crawling into the room, scooting more than crawling. When he got to the end of the bed, he reached up and pulled on the bedspread, tried to use it to tug himself upright. But of course, the bedspread was in a clump at the foot and started to slip the moment James grabbed.

"Whoa, baby," she said, jerking up and towards him. She caught the bedspread before it could have him falling on his bottom, and then she leaned over the mattress and gripped him under the arm. "Hey, there. Look at you, standing up."

"He's about to walk. Any day now. Not just using Sasha as a walker."

At seven months old? But she saw it herself, how he could pull up on things and sideways inch his way, how his balance was so steady.

Castle came and picked up the baby, settled James in bed with her. She took the hint and eased back against the headboard, let her quiet but happy boy start crawling over her. He gripped her shirt at one arm and then her hair and stood up on her lap, bobbing his knees in excitement.

"Wow, look at you, Jay. You're so strong." She glanced to Castle, hovering on the edges of things, and she patted the mattress. "Sit with us, Rick."

"Are you - going to do your journal?"

She blinked. "Yeah. I - yeah. Get me some paper and a pen, will you? I'll do it right now."

If that's what he needed, rather than cuddling with their son in bed, then fine. She'd write the daily log and she'd do the work.

"Rick?"

He turned at the doorway, on his way to paper and pen.

She smiled at him. "I love you, you know. No matter what you say, or feel, your regrets or fears, your guilt or responsibility. Everything we've gone through - it makes us strong, so strong, Castle."

His shoulders eased. "If I can carry this guilt and responsibility with half the grace you do, Kate, then I'll consider it a gift." He came back in the room and leaned over them to smooth down James's shirt. And then he kissed her. So softly.

They were going to make it; they had already survived. Now they were going to thrive.

* * *

_Day One: _

_(Although really, it's been more than one day since Paris and Cologne but I guess we're counting by journal days. Shit, Castle, it's harder to do this knowing you're going to read it. This feels like a police report.)_

_9 am - woke up feeling 7 or 8; snuggled with Wolf; writing this journal entry against my thigh while James pulls my hair as he tries to stand up behind me, wedging his little body between me and the headboard. what are you doing back there, you crazy kid?_

_Goals: five small meals per Carrie's meal plan. Give my son his bottle tonight. Yoga dvd for some conditioning. Um, I don't know what else, but I'm sure there are other things. Oh, I need to call Lanie._

_8 pm - well, fuck. fine, about a 5. I slept most of the day. I hate sleeping away the day. Lanie called and we talked but I don't remember the whole conversation and I fell asleep in the middle but she just stayed on the line. James refuses to go to bed; he won't take the bottle. Castle has to do it because Wolf is wriggling around too much. I'm in bed upstairs now, and he's in the baby's room, and it makes me miserable and restless and there's no way I'm falling asleep tonight._

_And now I've got to read about that first day in Paris and I'm going to be nasty to you, I can feel it coming. I really don't want to hurt you. I just don't want to keep hurting you._

* * *

_One._

_Seeing Paris with you, the Eiffel Tower and your wonder, how it filled me up with wonder too - that was a beautiful moment. I cherish that morning, standing under the wrought iron structure and staring straight up into the sky, to the top, and how amazing it is to know the work and effort involved - and that it endures._

_I want to remember that the most. But what I dream instead is lying on a roof in the rain and feeling the cold down to my bones and knowing how stupid it was to not take the regimen like I'm built to. How stupid and my fingers are cramping with soreness and some numbness and I look through the scope and watch you fall. Into the mud. Crumple._

_I took the shot. It was instinct. I don't remember making the decision, I just shot. I'm trained to. I am not, however, trained to leave my equipment lying on a roof and rush down the stairs four steps at a time, slam through an emergency door so that the alarm sounds, and pelt across the gardens at top speed, attracting the attention of every single person in the gardens that day. A man was there, trying to tend to Jolin. I barely looked at her._

_You were alive, breathing, but your heart was slow, missing beats. Your face was white and the rain soaked us and the mud was caked all down one side. I panicked. I admit it. I didn't know what to do. I kept searching for a gunshot wound. I thought Jolin had shot you, or someone in the park had done it; I thought it was an ambush - because you'd been fine._

_I thought you were fine until that moment, thought it was just fine. That terrifies me still, knowing how wrong I was, how I didn't see it. I remember you telling me that once about the time I got my super flu, how you just didn't think it would get so bad, how you kept apologizing for not paying better attention. I used to think that was so stupid - it's not your job to measure every fever and cough and sniffle. But I get it now._

_I understand a lot more. I-_

_I need to finish this. It's not a novel. Just a damn log._

_I carried you to the van. It was not my finest moment. I was weak; it was raining and the gardens were muddy. I had trouble running and the police made chase. Black wanted to stay in the back of the van with you but I wouldn't - he drove until we got to a garage. I had left the sniper rifle on the roof and the gun had fallen out in the park and I had no weapons and I wanted us to go to a hospital, but he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't take you, and it was between driving myself with him doing something to you back there or letting him - letting him have his way._

_And then we changed cars because he said he knew of something that would help - the charcoal method - and that he knew you had toxicity and it was the only thing to make sense and it killed me that he - but it made sense. It was terrible but it made sense._

_But you had a seizure and you were shaking and it - that was awful. The convulsions. I never want to see that again. I thought - but it did convince me then that it had to be regimen-related._

_Your heart stopped while I was driving this Fiat I stole, and I pulled over and crawled into the back and took over chest compressions. I don't know if he really - he looked like he was trying and then he would look like he wasn't trying at all, like it was all a trick, and I couldn't trust anything he said. And then he pulled a fucking needle out of the first aid kit and I lost it. I just - cracked. He stabbed it into your ribs to get at your heart and the atropine worked - it did work. Your eyes flew open for a second and I was holding you and you sucked in a breath and your heart was beating._

_We went to a place he knew and I stole some medical supplies but the whole time I had to leave you in the backseat with him. Wondering if he'd do it again, save your life if I wasn't there to force the issue, but if I didn't get the supplies then we couldn't get the charcoal and I couldn't find any of the right ingredients. Oh, that was the pharmacy. There was a pharmacy first. I don't know, Kate, it was - it runs together into that one moment where he stabbed you with the needle. It just, everything I know is right at that moment and I can't get past it._

_I carried you up the stairs to this crap place - you remember it. We hid out there until Hunt came with the ambulance, but that's not this first day. I don't know what else. I couldn't carry you like I should have, my arms and legs were shaking. So I knew I needed the pure serum, needed to take it, and he was so pleased. So I got the shot; he had it in the freezer there so it must have been a depot for that for him. I got the shot and I fought - fought it off. I tried to stay awake, Kate, I tried to - because I didn't know if he would try something._

_I had to threaten him - he had a knife. I got the knife away but he'd already cut your hair. It was matted with mud and Jolin's blood and it was getting into the IV, but it killed me. I got the knife from him and I was - I was falling apart at every moment and I didn't know what to do that was right. You kept dying and I had serum coursing through my veins, dragging at me, shutting me down._

_I don't know what else. I think you fell asleep, but I didn't. I couldn't. And then I passed out for twenty minutes and it was so bad to see his face when I woke and know he'd been there watching me, watching you that whole time._

_Joy:_

_This is better. This is a good idea, ending with joy._

_When I gave James cheerios this morning for breakfast, it was just the two of us downstairs in the kitchen and he beamed up at me, arched his back in the high chair in that way he does. He lifted both hands and clapped and I shook some cheerios out of the box and he just kept smiling so big. And then he said daddy and clapped again, like he was congratulating me on a job well done._

_And it felt like that. It felt like an accomplishment to be downstairs with him and not panic about whether or not you were still breathing upstairs. I knew you were because you slept all last night and slept hard and when I kissed you as I slipped out of bed, you hummed and said my name._

_So that was two people calling me by name, two people I love who love me back, and if I'm not being conceited, who seem to adore me too._

_Just the way you both said it._

* * *

She was aware of him in a way she didn't think she ever had been before.

When Kate had been shot in the back at her captain's funeral, jumping in front of a bullet for Castle hadn't been of any consequence to her. Of course she would. Of course. At the time, their relationship hadn't been defined, had been rather room-mate-ish, friends with benefits, but her heart had been thoroughly entangled with his despite her best efforts.

No, honestly? She had thought herself so protected, but there was no defense against Rick Castle. Not for her.

Waking up to see him at her bedside, waking up to that intensity of feeling on his face had nearly swamped her. She hadn't been prepared for it, had felt his need and his love drowning her. But he'd been so solid, so strong, that she had let herself lean. Let herself need him back, love him back, even though she hadn't been ready for it.

This was different. This recovery was gutting them out - when it wasn't completely rebuilding them. It was hard to understand how they could be both so bad for each other and yet so good for each other too. When she'd been shot, she'd pushed and battled and fought and he had done the same, and Stone Farm had been misery for her.

Now they were trying so hard not to be each other's misery.

She paced the basement space not taken up by their panic room, measuring out the distance from the washer and dryer to the back wall, nervous.

He was coming down the basement stairs with some equipment. James was napping in his crib; Castle had the baby monitor with him, though they didn't need it. The panic room had CCTV directly above the baby's bed. She could see him asleep from her spot right before the open door.

Castle dumped an exercise band and free weights on top of the front-loader, leaned the yoga mat and exercise ball against the wall.

"You sure you can do this?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

"Yeah."

"You sure you want to do this?" she said, a little softer now.

He gave her a shake of his head and rubbed his hand through his hair. He looked a little haggard. Their last few journals had been rough, and she knew he didn't like dredging it up.

She didn't particularly like reading it. She supposed it would help them at some point, but she didn't see it yet. She'd had a panicked moment in the bathroom yesterday that had made her yank out her phone and call King, and he'd talked her down while she pushed herself into the tight space between the toilet and the wall, trying not to let Castle hear her hyperventilate.

When it'd been over, she'd come out and he'd been right there, leaning against the closet door, eyes closed, grief-stricken for her.

There'd been some slow sex and his worshipful mouth and her needy fingers, and they'd let it smooth out and roll off of them.

She hoped.

"I need you to - push me when I don't want to be pushed," she said.

He dropped his hand at his side. "I know what to do."

"I'm not questioning your-"

"I can be your trainer, Kate. If it means we stay within these walls, stay safe, then I can do it."

"You hate pushing me," she sighed.

"I pushed you in Russia," he countered, his jaw setting in that little boy stubbornness that James had at times as well. It was cute. He looked cute when he was pushing back against her, when he was digging in his heels and insisting on his way.

"You did."

"I pushed you in Cologne, pushed you on the trip home. I can push you, Kate Beckett, when I have to."

She nodded, suppressed her smile. "I stand corrected."

"Damn straight."

She didn't look at him to avoid showing her hand, but now Castle was bristling and battle-ready, wanting to prove himself, rather than hesitant and dwelling in the past. He was going to push her, yeah, and she was going to hate it a little after this, but she needed it.

She was sick and tired of being too weak to hold her son, too weak to walk down the stairs, too weak to even stay awake through the day.

Time to start physical therapy.

"Yoga mat," Castle barked. "Let's start with stretches. You don't move your body - I move your body. You understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said, suppressing the smirk as much as she possibly could.

"Oh, you won't be smiling, Agent Beckett. Not when I'm through with you."

Oh, but she was already so much more already. More thrilled. More excited. She couldn't help leaning into him as she moved past for the yoga mat, couldn't help kissing his firm, stern mouth with a brush of her lips, an amused thank you in the offering.

He scowled back at her.

* * *

_Day Six:_

_7:00 am. I'm a 6 for sure. I'm more accurate now, look at me. I can learn._

_I do learn. Right? I think I'm better at this. Something about knowing what I'm trading my day for - for Castle's day, for a day I spent dying - that sobers me._

_Let's see, goals: I will actually get to the yoga dvd today, though I'll mostly do the breathing exercises. I don't have that pain behind my sternum any longer, so it must have been a muscle strain like Logan said. I feel good, but I expect I'll be sleeping a lot of today. Snuggles with Wolf boy, though he'd rather crawl all over me. I've been his jungle gym this week. He likes to giggle as he puts his foot in my ribs and tries to get up on my shoulder. Wrestling with him has been a good test of what I can do._

_10:00 pm. Okay, not bad. I stayed a 6 today. I slept the same naps as the wolf pack. Got woken up this afternoon by James, giggling. He crawled all over the bed and wrestled the dog with me between. Castle got in bed with us and then we were all giggling. Your face, Castle, looks so much better now. You look like you're going to make it._

_Those things make me happy. Even if I slept all day, it's not such a bad day if those are my accomplishments._

* * *

_Six._

_It was mostly the same as the day before; I won't make you - either of us - go through it. I would sit by your cot and hold your hand, trying not to bend the IV line, and your fingers would twitch against my lips from time to time and let me know you were there._

_You had a panic attack when Black was trying to help with the meds, and it was really bad - you would stop breathing and your eyes would lock on mine, wild and scared, and all I could do was pet your hair back from your face and try to help you remember how to breathe._

_With the windows covered by aluminum foil and newspaper, it was dark in there. We had the hurricane lamp and Black was gone a lot of that day. Now I know why. Late that afternoon, he told me we were moving, we had to go, he said the Collective was going block by block, searching._

_I looked, and there were signs. It seemed accurate, but I could never tell with him. He'd bend the truth to make it look like what he wanted, and I told him no, that you couldn't be moved. Your heart was - the chelation seemed to make things worse sometimes. I couldn't be sure of anything._

_And then he orchestrated it all on his own. He had Hunt throw a smoke bomb into an unoccupied apartment so that emergency services were called in. I still don't know whether or not there was also an actual fire. Just so much chaos that night. I carried you downstairs, you remember that, right? You were curled up against me, and Kate, you're a tall woman, I love your legs, but you were so small that night. I felt like I was carrying everything precious to me, my own heart outside my body for anyone to bleed._

_You had the gun, but I think I did that just to make us both feel better. I'm not sure you could have lifted it, let alone withstood the recoil._

_In the stairwell on the way down, all these people were crowding to get down, and I got panicked about it. I could see us getting stuck and the Collective making their move - if it was them with the surveillance car down the street - and here I was carrying you. So I just started shouting for them to move, to clear the way, and the amazing thing was - they did._

_I don't even think I was speaking German. I must have been. You know that happens to me, slipping in and out of languages, and they understood, so I guess I was. But it was crawling up my throat, this panic that we'd get trapped in the stairwell, and so I just started pushing forward._

_They let us by. It was - that was the first time I really believed that we were going to be okay. That someone was looking out for us, God or Fate or the universe. I had been praying, my lips against your hand, praying please, please, please. But I don't know to who or what. I thought maybe you, or just - putting it out there, needing there to be something else, something more powerful than me because I wasn't cutting it._

_And then those people parted before us like water, and we walked through them, and out to the street and there was Hunt coming up to meet us._

_It was after midnight in the ambulance when your heart stopped. I'll leave that for tomorrow._

_My Joy:_

_James woke in the night again, but this time, he wasn't sad. He was smiling up at me - you know that one he has where he ducks his head and looks so shy? It was three o'clock in the morning, but he lifted his arms and wanted to be picked up, and so I did. I sat with him in the rocker and he kept saying, "Mama, mama."_

_So I took him to our bed. He didn't wake you, we were quiet, but he and I talked. I don't know how else to explain it. He babbled to me really quietly, kept patting my chest or looking over at you, and I answered him back. We had a whole conversation about being good for mommy and letting you sleep and how we were buddies in that._

_After ten minutes or so, he laid his head down on my chest and he fell asleep, just like that. You were right there, and I reached out my hand and touched your cheek with the backs of my fingers and you sighed a little and nuzzled in._

_That was a good night._

* * *

"What happened to _you don't move your body, I move your body_?" she snapped.

Castle flinched and she grunted, losing her balance at the last second. He caught her, arms trapping hers at her sides, and it took him a little time to release her again. She shivered.

"Sorry," he murmured. "Reset."

She shifted away from him, sweat at her collarbones, her temples, at the curl of hair at her nape. He could smell her frustration, and her stupid comment had been mere snark designed to cover her weakness.

He knew her, knew how she operated when she felt threatened, but it didn't make this any easier.

"Reset," he told her.

She didn't grumble at him, which showed just how far past good-natured pessimism she was. But she did reset, moving back into position, a tree-stand with one leg up and her foot braced on her other knee.

She wobbled immediately and pitched towards him.

Castle caught her again, gripped the back of her neck where the sweat was slick and felt erotic under his fingers, a jolt to his system. He was reminded of their son asleep upstairs, of the week's worth of journal entries that always seemed to surprise her (_you had to do that?_ she'd cried). He didn't want to be doing this, another blow, another way to beat her down, but if he stopped, she'd lose it.

She was panting, struggling to right herself, unable to get her balance. A fist in his shirt, the hot breath against his jaw as she pushed off against him.

She collapsed back with a little moan. He knew that moan. He closed his eyes and put that moan into a different context, let his fingers dapple the ridges of her spine at her neck, let his body trick him into believing they were in bed together.

_Do that again,_ she moaned.

"Reset," he growled into her ear.

"Fuck you," she snapped.

He sucked in a breath, tasting her sweat and work, her desperation. "Reset."

She whined but struggled upright; he pressed in close this time, her body electric near his body, skins brushing. She was panting. He could picture last night, and her fingers pleading so eloquently without even voicing it, and this afternoon was the same. Her mewling let him know.

"Reset, Beckett."

"I'm trying," she hissed. Her breath caught and released as she shook.

He kept his eyes closed to not see it, his hands slowly letting go, and he could sense the moment she began dragging her bare foot up the inside of her other leg, trying to move into tree position.

"Palms together," he insisted. _Put your hands-_

"Shit," she breathed. "Shit. Castle, please."

_Please, please, don't stop._

He opened his eyes and saw hers were closed, face contorted, bottom lip trapped in her teeth. She was struggling wildly with her balance, exhausted beyond all ability, but it was the end of their session and he knew she wanted to finish strong.

"You can do it, Kate," he husked. His heart was ragged in his chest, but beating still. "Come on, babe. Give me what we both want."

She gasped and her eyes startled open, hearing his obvious insinuation. Her chest rose and fell, her body straightened up a little more, and she focused. Her concentration pinpointed - he could see it in her eyes, how she shifted into that _go_ mode, Beckett mode - and her foot inched up her calf to her knee.

She stood in position, breathing hard, eyes locked onto his.

"You got it, sweetheart, you got it. Don't stop."

She looked ready to come apart; she'd cry after this. He knew that too. She'd burst into tears as she had two days ago, relief and frustration pouring out of her. He was ready for it this time.

Or so he told himself.

He counted off her time out loud, going slowly over the numbers to torture her, just a little, just enough to make this whole damn PT session worth it - to push her just that much further than last time.

She was shaking so badly that his hands kept flinching towards her. She was shaking so badly she'd clamped her mouth shut and was breathing through flared nostrils, her elbows dipping erratically as her pressed palms before her chest kept falling.

"Three... two... one," he said and she was finally released.

Kate dropped her foot and nose-dived straight into his chest with a choking noise she couldn't seem to suppress. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his mouth in her hair and felt her first shudders, the way she fought it still.

And then she cried.

Messy tears, wracked out of her wrecked body, the body he was tearing down so that she could build it back, the body he adored with everything in him.

He was going to die before they were through with this. It would kill him.

"You're so strong, babe. You did so good," he whispered. "So good, Kate. I'm so proud of you."

She sobbed against his chest until her knees went weak and refused to hold her up, and so he swept his arm under her knees and carried her into the open panic room, laid them both down on the bed.

He held her while she wept through a surfeit of exhaustion and emotion, and he hated himself, he hated her, but he loved her.

She fell asleep clutching his shirt.

* * *

_Day Nine: 9 am. I slept in a little because we were up late, and we had fun, didn't we? That was definitely my joy last night. Really looking forward to being let off restrictions, babe, and you should be too._

_Um, rating, I think, is more 5 or 6 than the 7 or 8 which I was hoping for, but that's probably because I seduced you. Didn't think it would take that much work. I need an emoticon for a smirking little smiley face but this pencil doesn't come with one. Pity._

_Goals: Make lunch for my baby. Both of you. (Damn, insert another smirking smiley.) Stay awake on the couch. Convince you to get some work done in the office. Go the full length of the yoga dvd. Talk to the Office about the physical therapist whose supposed to be treating me for my 'GSW.' Maybe they can coordinate with Castle and he can do the training, but ug, no. I don't want that. You'd never let me out of the house. So then it becomes a matter of finding a PT we can trust._

_8 pm. Rock on. I am awesome. The whole dvd. Felt so damn good to sweat. Fuck, I miss working out. I really want to run sometime soon. You can push James in the Bob and that way maybe I can keep your pace, maybe. Who am I kidding? I won't be able to keep your pace even if you're handicapped by the jogging stroller. Still. I wanna run, babe. We have got to do that._

_I'd say a 7 tonight. I feel really good. And I slept hard during both his naps, and I woke up feeling good both times. That hasn't really happened since we got back. I'm going to try not to push it, even though I feel so damn good. Not going to make you run with me, so that's an improvement, right? I'm figuring this out._

_I love you, Castle. I really - a few days ago, I wasn't sure I could get back to this. It's so easy to forget how good the good really is. I'm glad we have to write it down. I think I want to go back and read these again to remind myself._

* * *

_Nine._

_We came home. You were so miserable. I could tell you felt like shit, but all you said was I want to go home. I would've done anything for you, at that point, and I did. Just to get you home. I didn't think about anything else or let my mind wander to long-range plans. I just wanted to do what you wanted because you were alive._

_I won't retell events you already know. The point of this is to give you an idea of what it was like for me, so I'll give you that: it was hell. Every minute, I expected your heart to stop with the strain of travel. Every hour in the air felt like the worst betrayal - because if something went wrong, if it went bad, it would be so very bad. We were cut off from all help. There was just me, and I already knew I wasn't enough. We'd kicked Black to the curb and we were alone, and if you died in flight, there was nothing I could do. It was the worst feeling, almost worse than seeing you collapse in Paris, because every second of that flight, I knew exactly what could happen and how bad it could be._

_I'm not sure I breathed, the whole flight. And then it was as mundane as driving you home, like it was any other mission, and you were falling asleep in the car. I think I gripped the steering wheel, choking it, until we parked right out front._

_All I wanted that day was to get you home because you wanted to be home. You're not the type of person to let anyone know when you're needy, but you were letting me know, and you were just emotionally vulnerable enough to let me know again and again, and that got to me. I shouldn't have let us leave so soon; we probably should have recouped in Florence for a few more days. But we were home._

_I think your need and your drive took me over. Because the only thing I could feel when we walked inside the door and you took James from your dad - the only thing I could at all feel was just such fucking relief. God, I can still feel it, once removed, just how damn grateful I was to see you home. To have James in your arms again. Sometimes I think it was all of our feelings together, like a weight, all of us so relieved that it wasn't possible to feel anything else. Any of my own misgivings were crushed beneath the force of that_ finally.

_And then that night, when it had worn off a little, all I could feel was guilty._

_I'll stop there to give you our Joy: James was trying out his sea legs this afternoon and I was holding his hands and letting him lurch forward, almost walking. I could feel how he didn't quite always need me, and I was thinking, this is the moment I'll write about, how he's so close, so very close to walking. Almost eight months old and I bet he does it soon._

_One of his hands tugged away to reach for Sasha, but the dog had already slipped by him. And I thought, I'll let him go and see what happens. So I worked my finger out from his grasp, just working slowly so I wouldn't set him off balance, and James was stretching his other hand out for the dog and shushing her - that has got to be him calling her name, Shh, Shh._

_And I let go._

_He wavered for a second. He was so surprised to find himself standing without any help that he turned his whole body back to me to share it - and he fell flat on his face. It was a hard fall, and right in the entry on the tile, and God, I felt awful for it. I thought, this is definitely not my moment of joy right here._

_But James lifted his face, his lip was bleeding where he'd busted it, and I had hunched down to pick him up again, and he crawled right into my lap and clung to me. He sobbed a little at first, like his feelings were hurt, but not by me. By the floor for betraying him and being so hard, by his surprise for knocking him off-balance, betrayed even by his own legs. But not by me._

_He had fistfuls of my shirt and he slobbered tears and blood all down the front, but he huddled against me. Me. He wanted me. He cried for daddy, and I held him, and it was the first time in a month that I felt like I could actually be everything for my family. Everything they needed, he needed, you needed._

_You were doing yoga and I carried him into the living room with me and the two of us sat down on the couch together and watched you and your perfect balance, both of us a little envious._


	6. Chapter 6

**Close Encounters 25**

* * *

Kate let the dvd play through the credits and out into black before she heard it stop and go quiet. Still she laid on the floor, trying to come down from her workout. Yoga was killing her. Castle was killing her.

But already, after a week and a half of training, she could complete the whole thing.

It wrung her out to do it, but she kept doing it. She thought already she felt stronger; Castle looked less like a man going to the gallows when he came down the basement stairs for their physical therapy sessions.

"Kate?"

"Here," she called.

She heard his laugh. "I can see that."

She opened her eyes and saw him at the doorway, his fingers trailing over the top of James's head where she'd left him in the jumping swing. He'd been out with Sasha, a short walk around the block for necessity's sake, when she'd decided _hey, let's do this again and see how it goes._

"I did yoga," she admitted, looking at him upside down.

"I assumed as much." His dry delivery was giving her nothing, but she was going with, _I find you bewildering but amusing_. That was a good one, that kind of interest usually led to touching.

"I only did the last half."

"You did the whole thing yesterday," he noted.

"I did." She swallowed. "I - didn't do all of it today?" For him. Because of him. Because even doing the last half - the hardest half - had wiped her out and she hadn't been expecting to feel quite so drained afterwards, but wow. Good thing she'd been trying for him.

"That's my consolation, you mean."

She winced and closed her eyes. It felt so good and cool and lovely on the floor. Her yoga mat was on top of the rug they'd had to replace for the sake of James's knees, and it was a really wonderful rug too. Deep pile and fluffy, a comfortable place to take a nap.

"Don't fall asleep, Beckett."

"Can't promise anything."

She heard him moving and opened her eyes, saw him unsnapping James from the jumper seat and lifting him out. She groaned, not ready to get up at all, but Castle carried the boy over and sat down next to the pushed-aside coffee table right at her shoulder.

He lowered James to her chest and all the air left her lungs in a rush, surprised by the baby, surprised by Castle.

Castle pushing her.

She clamped her arms around James to keep him from falling over, and the boy pushed up on his hands, staring down into her face. She found her breath and smiled back at him, felt Castle's fingers tugging the hair out of her mouth, off her forehead.

"Hey, Jay," she smiled at him. Another pause to suck in her breath despite the weight of him on her chest. "You have fun jumping?"

"Hold it for a count of three, Beckett."

She growled something back at him - didn't he realized she'd just done twice as much work as yesterday? - but he was stoic in the face of her frustration.

It was as if he'd said, _you want it? I'll give it to you._

Oh, that was a really nice thought. She missed being rough. She missed him holding her down and her wrestling to flip him back over and one of her hands pinned over her head before she managed to get him by the-

"Mama!"

Whoops. "Yeah, you got me," she smiled at the baby. "Mommy's here."

"Dad-dad." James pushed against her chest, rocking up, back down again, like he was ready to move. His crawling was lightning fast the days, he was standing alone more often than not. "Da-da-da-"

"I see you, kid," he said. "But you gotta weigh Mommy down for a few more minutes. She needs to strengthen her lungs."

She could really curse him out if her son wasn't right on top of her. "Yeah, Mommy's working on it."

"Inhale count of three, exhale, Beckett, or you'll hyperventilate and have another panic attack."

Well, fuck. That was true too. She drew her breath in and counted, let it out for three as well. It actually helped. The raised-fur of anxiety began to be soothed, like when they petted Sasha after she sensed something outside.

The wolf in her came down.

"Very good."

She could punch him for that. She was going to punch him, one of these days. He had the tendency to praise her for breathing or standing or not crying like it was _such_ a vast improvement. It pissed her off. And okay, he probably did it on purpose.

She controlled her breathing and pushed her lungs up against the weight on her chest. James just seemed to kind of watch them.

She lifted her hand from his back and cupped his head, smoothing his hair down. "Good boy. You helping Daddy torture Mommy?"

He tilted his head, as if puzzling through that.

Castle was acting as spotter, close but not hovering, and she really needed to make it up to him somehow. Soon. For how damn good he was - forcing her to work just like Fezzik her PT used to, and also forcing her to feel normal around him again, like she wanted to feel.

"Love you," she said, nudging her chin up so that she could see him. He gave her a thin smile back and she tried again. "Really love you, Rick. You're not mad, are you?"

His veneer washed away, just like that. "I'm mad. But not at you."

"Had to take the dog out."

"And you had to test yourself," he shrugged.

"But instead of brooding over me, you've taken it and run with it. And I kind of adore you for that. I think it's why I keep falling in love with you."

He opened his mouth but nothing came out; she could tell she'd blown his anger right out of the water. He just stared at her.

She felt good for that. At least she could be honest. She could sob in his arms when PT overwhelmed her and it felt impossible, and he took it, and then he turned around and pushed her harder the next session because he knew that was the only way she felt in control. She could be honest about it because he wasn't going to freak out.

"My brave man," she sighed, closing her eyes.

Only to be startled by his lips, his mouth brushing down her nose and to her own, stealing that hard-won breath.

The heat of him met the sweat of her workout and she lifted her hands to capture his jaw, his neck, hang on to him.

Only James rolled off her chest with an elbow to her solar plexus that pushed the last of her breath out of her and she wheezed, laughing, and Castle was laughing back and dragging her upright, catching James with an arm.

She couldn't carry her baby but he was trapped between them and they were all three grinning and happy this afternoon. His hands were heavy and warm on her arms, dragging down to her elbows, and James was clutching her shirt.

Castle brushed the hair back behind her ear and instead made her pony tail fall down. There was something shy and hesitant in the feeling that rose up between them, and and his hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing along her cheeks.

"Kiss me," she murmured.

He leaned in and their lips touched, gentle and risky at the same time. She felt his kiss in her belly like a hook, bringing her up to meet him.

"That good?" he whispered.

"Kiss me again," she asked, her heart fluttering. How much she wanted him to want her back. Her own husband, this man she had bruised and hurt and stretched too far. This man who was still here.

"Again?"

"Another one," she said, though she might be begging. She was begging.

He wasn't smiling but he brushed lips with her, fingers lightly stroking her cheeks so that the sensation ran like a current under her skin.

"Castle," she whispered.

"What about James?"

"Castle, please. I need-" She swallowed a groan. "He was happy in the jumping swing."

He pulled back only a little and searched her face. "All right," he husked. "Hold that thought."

He gave her a light drag of his lips at her jaw, making her shiver, and then he was removing the weight of the baby and taking James towards the swing.

* * *

When Castle had finished with the immediate tasks, he could lift his head from the computer tablet and take a second, give himself a break.

He rubbed a fist in his eye, gritty with the long hours he'd put in tonight, and laid the tablet on the coffee table. It was dark downstairs, and he'd meant to go up to the office to finish this, but he'd been in the middle of a project for Espo and had gotten sucked in. Castle's grasp of coin was fair, but it hadn't been enough to follow the threads through to the end, and it had taken entirely too long to establish real identities behind the users.

BearWhale. Whatever. He didn't exactly get it, but hopefully Ryan - their go-to tech guy these days - was guru enough to explain it to Espo. Castle didn't relish the position.

Another good thing about being suspended - not his job now.

He planted his hands on his knees and lifted himself to his feet, rotating his head on his neck as he stood. His spine popped as it lengthened and he realized he was actually tired.

Ah, not good.

He probably was pushing right up against his limits. The regimen allowed for him to only require a handful of hours of sleep, but it wasn't an ideal state to exist in for any length of time. He could do four hours for weeks, but the two he'd been getting weren't going to cut it.

Maybe it was good he was feeling the strain tonight. Maybe that meant he'd fall right into deep sleep and not be disturbed this time. The problem was that regimen sleep outside of the two-to-three hour time frame wasn't a heavy enough sleep. It was a more alert kind of doze, because the regimen body could do the work of repair and renewal in a shorter amount of time and with less REM sleep.

It was possible and even likely to sleep a full night while on the regimen, especially if Castle trained himself to do it, but lately he just - couldn't.

Without a deeper slumber, he was yanked from unconsciousness by his own damn memories. Dreams that came in non-REM sleep. Night terrors. Kate dying night after night, Castle waking to the stillness of her body beside him and the horror of a missed breath.

He would get up, walk it off, check on the boy, come back to bed - only to fall right back down into the same nightmare.

So he had just - quit sleeping.

But after nearly two weeks, he had to get more than a few hours - or his body would start to feel the strain and the super would be mostly useless. Which was stupid. The whole damn point of being steady on the regimen was the super - being what Kate Beckett needed when she needed him.

So Castle dragged his sorry ass up the stairs and down the hall to their bedroom.

She was asleep curled up in the middle of the bed, and she looked young but lonely in the darkness.

He felt old and worthless, but he stripped off his clothes and crawled under the covers with her, pressed his forehead to the jut of her elbow. Her skin was warm and he could feel her breath ruffling his hair.

Like that, he finally slept.

* * *

He woke the second she gasped his name.

Castle was immediately cupping her face in his hands, eyes alert and searching hers. "What's wrong? What's wrong, Kate?"

She found her fists gripping his shirt and her body twisting, urgency deep in her guts. She'd woken up with it. She couldn't breathe. "Panic - panic attack," she gasped.

"Okay, okay. It's okay, honey. A panic attack. We know how it goes, don't we?"

She couldn't breathe-

"It's okay. It's okay," he said, voice like gravel. "Look at me, Kate."

She fought through the rising tide in her throat, the way it knotted up hard. Like fingers had hooked through her mouth and pressed up into her nose, leaving her gagging.

"Breathe, honey. You can do it. You can actually breathe. It's there. It's right there."

It wasn't, it wasn't-

"Keep your eyes on me. You know it will pass. It always does-"

What if it didn't?

"-it just takes a moment. Especially in the middle of the night. Harder to figure out where you are, isn't it? But you're right here with me. You and me, Kate. We're gonna be okay."

She just needed to breathe.

"Just a panic attack. We both know how that feels. When it's over, we can get up and play stupid card games on the couch, watch the Ellen show until the sun comes up. Or you fall asleep."

"Panic attack," she croaked, her breath thin and papery through her closed up throat.

"I'm so proud of you, honey. You know that? So proud. You're not alone, not ever alone."

"Know," she gasped. Not alone.

"Next step - your heart rate will start to slow again. Your body will start to shake. You'll feel washed out. All normal. You just breathe, honey."

Easy for him to say. An elephant on her chest. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't-

"You're kinda like a wolf when you're in the middle of this, you know? Wild."

She couldn't fucking breathe. What the hell was he-

"Yeah, honey. Just that. Means you're a fighter. Makes the panic attack worse, but it also makes you strong."

Strong.

"And now you're going to breathe for me, Kate. Breathe."

His hands cupped her cheeks and his breath tickled her mouth even as she gasped.

"There we go, you got it. That's it, that's it. You're okay."

She sobbed and the breath left her, came in again like reflex, like everything was working again.

"Okay, okay," he whispered. His hand left her face and wrapped around her neck, lifted her up in bed. She was shivering, drenched in sweat, but Castle was getting her up, pulling her out of bed. "Okay. Shower, yeah? You always take a shower after a bad one. The heat, right? Feels good."

She sucked in another breath, another, felt the oxygen spinning through her, giddy in her lungs.

She gripped his hand as they walked into the bathroom, released him so she could get her pajamas off. Her whole body was shaking with the letdown, but she wasn't sick feeling. All the other times, she'd wanted to throw up afterwards. Even the time she'd managed to call King and have him talk her down.

Castle caught her t-shirt in one hand and tossed it towards the laundry basket, then turned and pushed on the faucets. The water was a thundering suddenness in the dark, and she blinked, stepped into the glass-encased shower.

He didn't follow, which only mildly surprised her, but she tilted her head back and let the heat of the water soak through her scalp, ease her shoulders down.

She let out a little sobbing breath and washed the tears off her face in the spray.

She heard the bathroom door shut as he left and she let herself - finally - believe it really was okay.

She even thought maybe she'd get back to sleep tonight.

Eventually.

* * *

Castle cupped the back of James's head and carefully laid him down on the blanket in the back yard.

"Enough shade?" she asked.

"Think so. What do you think?"

She came at his back under the tree and glanced up, then down at the baby. "Yeah, think it'll be fine. We're going to have to find some organic baby sunblock, you know?"

"Yep." Castle took her hand and gave her a little leverage as she sank down beside the blanket. James rolled to his stomach and got to his hands and knees, but instead of scampering off, he headed for Kate.

She laughed as James barreled right into her; she went toppling playfully, but Castle could tell there was a controlled descent to it. He left them there under the tree, Sasha nosing the back fence, and he moved around to find the lawn mower.

"Have fun, Castle!"

He narrowed his eyes and turned back to give her the finger. She laughed, giggled actually, and it made James giggle too.

"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up. It'll be you next, James. The second you're tall enough to reach the handle bar, you've just got your first chore."

Kate wrapped her arms around the baby on her chest and kissed his cheeks, saying something to him probably soothing and _don't listen to him_, but Castle wasn't getting any love here, was he?

The shed where they kept the lawn stuff - usually a job for the crew Mitch had hired - was as secure as his own house, of course. The alarm for the shed wasn't connected to the house alarm, though, so he had to manually punch in the numbers on the keypad.

The simple digital padlock popped and he pulled apart its pieces, lifted the latch. The shed was low, and he had to duck his head as he went inside. No electricity, but the bright sunlight filtered in behind him.

The lawn mower was a push-start with a lever to adjust the wheel level for a cropped cut or a longer blade. It was a rather sad-looking machine, honestly, but it would - apparently - service. He didn't know. Mitchell was in the process of re-organizing their service teams. They'd had a woman who cleaned for them while they were gone; she got in when Castle would remote unlock the door and turn off the alarm. But Mitch wanted all new systems in place, and a secondary code for the maintenance staff.

So Castle had three months off and he was mowing his own damn lawn.

He pushed the mower out of the shed and brought the gas can with him, settled everything on the back patio. "Hey," he called. "When I'm done with the front strip and the side, I'm gonna be back here."

"Mow around us. It's all roots here anyway."

"It'll be loud. Maybe dusty." He knelt down to untwist the cap off the engine.

"We don't care, do we, wolf? We wanna watch Daddy all big and strong and being so domestic."

"You watch me make dinner every night," he muttered. He peered inside the gas tank and saw the shining depths. Full. He twisted the cap back on and glanced over to Kate.

She was on her side, head propped up on her elbow, her hand circling James's ankle as he tried to scoot away. She was watching him alright.

"I'm gonna start," he said inanely, for lack of anything better to say. Sometimes when she went still and quiet, so did her eyes. And he saw the whole of existence in those dark wells, shining mysterious and full just like the gas tank. Potential.

That's what it was. Potential. Potential for violence and flame, or potential for energy and work.

And he realized he didn't know which direction she'd go. He wanted to believe they were going to be fine, but Beckett surprised him - good and bad. She pushed too hard and she never knew her own limits, or his, but that was also the most amazing part of her, the very most terrible, beautiful thing about Kate: she never stopped.

And King had been right. That was Castle's security, that was the root of his trust and faith in her. She wouldn't abandon him. She would never give him up.

So he was going to mow the lawn in a great big circle around her and then he'd come sit with them under the tree until his sweat cooled off and the afternoon flattened out.

* * *

Kate crawled into his lap on the couch and wrapped her arms around him.

Castle startled - he'd been reading her journal again - but he dropped the spiral-bound notebook and hugged her back, her body strong under his hands. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

"This is working, right?"

"Babe, it's working," he promised, hugging her a little tighter. He heard James from his jumping swing in the doorway and turned his head, saw the baby reaching for them. "It's better already."

"I'm not pushing it too much, am I?"

"Hey, where did this come from?" he murmured. He stroked his hand up her spine to bury his fingers in the hair at her nape.

"It just gets me," she mumbled. Her cheek landed on top of his shoulder. "James wants out."

"I saw that," he said, stroking the soft hair at her neck.

"I'm not supposed to lift him."

"Logan has said only two more weeks."

She chuckled and her head tilted on his shoulder; he glanced down and saw she was watching him. "Two more weeks means you have to go get him."

"Yeah, but I'm comfy right here and James can wait." He smiled as he said it, hands roaming, and then he froze.

What he'd said. The choice he was making, again, between them.

"I mean-" he croaked.

"Hush," she said instantly, rising up against him. Her fingers came over his mouth. "Don't. It's okay to _joke_. It's okay to even _mean it_. James can wait. He's fine in his swing. And if we want to have a little time for us, then we have to take it where we can."

He knew that; he knew it. But he kept second-guessing himself. He knew he loved his son, that wasn't in question any longer. The grief had begun to untangle its stranglehold on his heart, his throat, and he was taking joy in them again. But sometimes he wasn't paying attention and stuff came out of his mouth and it made him wonder. What if he was no better than his father - only better at pretending?

"It wasn't really a joke," he admitted. "But I should get him."

"No," she said, shaking her head. Her hips pushed down into his. "You're staying right here. We're going to stay right here until he fusses. Until he _cries_. And then we'll get him out."

"Kate-"

"No."

And then her fingers stole under his shirt and traced along his ribs and he grunted, closing his eyes. Next her mouth at his neck where he wasn't at all expecting it, surprising him into that first flush of arousal. He gripped her hip and one shoulder, not sure what he wanted from her, and then her hand pushed up and covered his tattoo while the other went-

Fuck.

"Kate," he groaned.

"Just like that," she whispered into his mouth.

* * *

Lying flat to the wood floor of the hallway, Castle set his phone against the door frame of his office. He was in a belly crawl position with his body in the room and only the top of his head poking out.

Never thought he'd be employing covert ops surveillance on his son and their dog.

Sasha was on her belly in the middle of the hallway with James on his belly right beside her. James had lately discovered the joy of the dog's toys, and this morning he'd gone scooting down the hallway after one of Sasha's baseballs.

Sasha had put up a lukewarm fight for it, a bat of her paw, a nudge of her nose, but James had reached right in and snagged the ball, drawing it close to his chest. He was on his belly, feet kicking in happiness, chewing on Sasha's ball.

Sasha leaned in and knocked her head into James's temple, licked with a long tongue across James's nose. The boy chuckled, his old man laugh, and Castle watched the screen on his phone to be sure it was recording every last second.

Sasha nudged James again and the baby leaned into the dog and nudged back. After a moment, Jay seemed to forget the ball in his hands entirely, and he was nuzzling his head into the neck of the dog. Sasha's fur mostly hid the boy's face, and then James released the ball to grasp the dog.

Castle could feel his smile spreading, splitting his face as the dog and the boy kept nudging each other. James gripped the dog, handfuls of fur, and dragged himself to his knees. Sasha stayed on her belly, nose nudging up and under James's arm, and then James draped himself over Sasha's back in a baby's whole-hearted embrace.

Sasha turned and licked James's neck, his ear, started licking his forehead in a way that Castle had never seen her before. She wasn't a licking kind of dog, too much of a wolf to be abjectly affectionate with them, but with James in this moment, she was tending him like one of her own.

Castle leaned his head against the door frame and recorded the whole encounter. When Kate woke, he'd share it with her, their baby, their dog, the way they took care of each other.

* * *

Castle found her on the couch with the remote, her cheek to her palm, eyes tired.

"Hey."

"Hey," she said, small smile.

He propped a hip against the back of the couch, wiped his fingers off on the rag. The lawn mower was broken again, and damn if he could fix it.

"You get it?" she mumbled.

"No." He dropped his hand to the back of the couch, lifted his fingers to touch the thick drape of her hair. "Don't know what's wrong. Must be old."

"You're usually so good with your hands."

He lifted an eyebrow, leaned in a little over her to see her face. Yeah, she was smirking. She tilted her head back so that she was looking at him, and he lifted his hand to her temple, traced the river of a vein that snaked at the side of her forehead. Her eyes closed under his touch, lashes deeply dark. She had put on eyeliner, mascara, some lip gloss even. But she looked washed out under it.

"You tired, love?" he murmured.

"You're not?" she asked, opening her eyes.

He gave her a tight smile back. "Not like this." Not when he was super.

She hummed and closed her eyes again and he cupped the side of her face, dusted a kiss to that vein that pulsed when she was most tired. Before he could move away, her arms were wrapping around his neck and pulling him close.

"It's okay to be tired, Kate, honey."

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice husky. "But I keep missing out."

"I know, babe." He slid an arm down her back and around her shoulders, kissed her temple. "But your dad has James out at the park, so you could sleep now and not miss a thing."

"I'd miss you," she complained.

Castle chuffed in her ear, laughing a little as she grunted, apparently hearing how that had sounded. "I'll stay with you," he offered. "I won't do anything remotely interesting that you might miss."

"On the couch," she delayed.

He winced, lifted up to come around the back of the couch to sit down beside her. "On the couch?"

"Wake me up when James gets back with my dad."

He set his jaw. "That could be in the next thirty minutes."

"So?"

Fine. Fine, a thirty minute nap on the couch wasn't enough, but it was better than nothing.

"All right. Lay down, Beckett. We only got thirty minutes."

She tilted her head and smiled at him, but instead of leaning back against the arm of the couch, she moved into him, pushing him back against his side. He drew his arm around her and let her sprawl over his chest, their legs twining on the couch.

She was pretty determined to keep him down with her.

"You sleep too," she whispered at his neck. She was burrowing down into him, arm drawn up, fist under her chin. "You sleep, Castle."

"Okay," he promised. Couldn't hurt. Twenty more minutes, and then when Jim brought the dog and James back home, he'd go back outside and try to fix the lawn mower.

* * *

Kate woke disoriented, feeling heavy and thick as if she had cramps. She tried to draw her knees up to ease the ache across her pelvis, but something blocked her.

Oh.

She'd fallen asleep on the couch with Castle, and she'd gotten wedged between the back of the couch and his body. Kate licked her chapped lips, wincing as they cracked, and lifted her head to figure out the time.

Sunlight spilled into the back windows, dark gold with the late afternoon. Her father had taken James and the security entourage out to the park, and while Castle hadn't even batted an eyelash at their being gone, she'd seen the tension in him and how he'd needed to be distracted.

Too tired to distract him, she'd suggested fixing the lawn mower. But taking a nap together seemed to have done it.

She extricated her arm from between them and wrapped it around his waist, tucking her fingers in under his shirt to warm them. Her cheek felt bruised, against his shoulder like this, so she wriggled to get into a softer position.

Not much softer on Castle.

She took a deep breath of his-

A violent jerk nearly sent her flying, but she clutched his shirt and the waistband of his jeans, rode it out. Suddenly Castle was burning hot under her, like lava flowed under his skin, and she pushed up off his chest to get a look at him.

His eyes popped open on a shout, and he was jerking out from under her, taking two lurching steps away from the couch, hands over his face.

Kate stared at him a half-second, struggled to find her feet and go after him. "Rick. Hey. Rick, look at me."

He had already taken a lunging step to the kitchen, but he changed directions and collided with her. She caught him by the forearms, kept him standing, stared up at him.

His eyes were blank.

"Hey, Castle, honey. You okay?"

Recognition came over his face and he seemed to stand straighter, be present with her. "I'm - okay."

"Yeah?"

A brief nod. "Yeah."

"What was that?" she dug. Not going to let him off the hook.

He shifted as if to get away from her, put distance, but she hooked her fingers in his belt loops, kept him with her at a touch.

He sighed. "Just a dream."

"You having nightmares, Castle?"

He shrugged.

"That why you're not sleeping with me?"

His eyes jerked to hers. "I'm sleeping with you. I'm - I just - it's not that I don't want to sleep with you - I always want to sleep with you."

She pressed her fingers over his lips to silence his panicky answer. That bothered her - that told on him - the scrambling for security that underlined his words. She stroked the back of her fingers at his jaw; the scruff had already grown in.

"Rick. You're not sleeping, love. I know the regimen means you need less, but you still need it. Tell me."

He shifted before her, looked uncomfortable. "I - it's just some dreams. I can't get deep enough sleep to make them stop."

She backed up, gave him some space. His shoulders came down, looked a little more comfortable. "Dreams about what?"

Shoulders came back up. "Nothing. Everything."

"Me."

His eyes slid back to hers. Such deep lines on his face. They'd done so much in the last three weeks to push out of this muck, but it still stained them.

"Why don't you tell me your dream," she started. With a couple feet between them now, she took his hand, his wide and generous hand, brought his fingers against her chest to press his palm to her heart. "Tell me what happens, and we'll rewrite the ending."

His eyes drooped and then came up to look at her, fingers curling at her shirt. "Rewrite it?"

"You did that for me, I can do it for you. Remember? I kept writing myself out of our future, but you kept telling me stories, putting me right back in it. And here we are."

His face contorted and a rush of grief went over him.

Kate stepped into him, drew her arms around him to hold him tight and close. "Okay, okay. It's okay, Rick. You're so good to me. I can be good for you. Sit down with me, honey, and we'll make a new story."

"Yeah," he said shakily into her hair. He sounded like a little boy. How long had he been waking with nightmares? She slept too hard and too often to really know.

"Sit," she urged. "Sit with me."

"The chair," he husked.

"Of course, I understand. The chair." She bumped her hips into his to get him going, moving him around to the armchair, give him a change of venue. He sank down into the seat and let out a long breath; she sat with him, wedging her hips into the space he'd left for her.

His arm had to snake around her shoulders to let them both fit, and she curled in against his chest, waiting on him.

"All my nightmares?" he said. "Or just this one?"

God. All his nightmares? "This one for now. How does it start?"

"In the rain," he sighs.

"In the rain where?"

"In Paris."

She pressed her hand over his chest, traced the outline of the tattoo where it would be on his skin if she could see it through the shirt. She knew it was there. "In Paris. Are you on the roof?"

"Yeah."

"And then you see me collapse."

"Yeah. And I - this time, when I run down the stairs and get out to the garden, there's blood everywhere. You've been shot. I-"

"Was I shot?"

"You - I - not in real life. Not this time."

"Not this time," she sighed. "I wasn't shot, Rick."

She pressed her palm into him and then stroked up to his jaw, fingers pianoing over the bumps in his bone from injuries: scuffles, punches, knots. She found his lips with her thumb.

"This time, Castle, when you reach out to touch me - where am I shot?"

"In the chest," he rasped.

She teased her fingers down his chest, found his hand where it rested on her thigh. She dragged him up to where her heart beat, his palm heavy just above her breast.

"In the chest," she repeated. "Where? Show me."

He sucked in a ragged breath but his hand moved, shifted to a place just at the hook of her sternum, between her breasts. "Here."

"Am I bleeding now?"

"No."

"Touch me - just to be sure," she murmured.

He blinked.

She shifted, inching her t-shirt up and drawing his hand with hers so that their tangled fingers brushed her stomach. She sucked in a breath, turned on despite herself, even though she was trying to be good for him, be there for him, and she pressed his fingertips to the spot he'd picked out.

His fingers splayed, hand hot between her breasts. His thumb brushed the slope and her breath caught as her eyes met his.

"No blood," he husked. "You feel just fine."

She smiled. "I do, don't I?"

"Yeah."

"No blood. No gunshot wound. No rain. Let's rewrite this story. So. This time when you run down the stairs, what do you find?"

"You," he husked. His eyes were electric.

"Me. Maybe I'm asleep on the couch? What am I doing, Rick?"

"Asleep on the couch," he said. His fingers twitched against her chest, between her breasts. "Dreaming about me."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Dreaming about you touching me."

"I kneel down beside you."

"And?"

"And I touch my mouth to yours to wake you."

"I open my eyes for you. To see you. My hand touches your face." She cupped his jaw and moved her fingers back to his hair. He looked possessed, by her, by her words, captured. She'd never seen him like this before, wanting so badly to believe.

"Then what?" he murmured. "What happens?"

"I rise up," she said, and she turned in the chair to pull her knee up into his lap. "I rise up and straddle your thighs."

She did and his eyes dropped down her body, traveling rough over her curves. His hand was still under her shirt, fingers at the smooth space between her breasts where there was no gunshot wound, no scar, at least not there.

She'd been shot in the back that time in the cemetery, shot as she'd pushed him out of the way - trying to anyway. She had to be sure he didn't slide his hands to her back to hold on to her, keep him from the realization that his nightmare was part real memory.

Kate touched his elbow with both hands, caressed her fingers up his forearm to bury under her shirt, keep his hand there. She stroked along his wrist and the sides of his palm, teasing his fingers.

"Is this your dream, Rick?"

"Is now," he husked.

"Very good, baby. Let's see what else we can write."


	7. Chapter 7

**Close Encounters 25**

* * *

"Thanks, Dad," Kate murmured, kissing his cheek as he shut the door behind him. "You're early?"

"Rick asked me to get here at seven," her father said, a glance at her with eyebrows raised. "You're not in on this?"

"She's not in on it," Castle said from the stairs. Kate turned and saw him descending with a seriously sleepy baby in his arms. James did _not_ like getting up in the morning. "And James should probably sleep for you, couple hours anyway."

"Not in on what?" she asked, moving to the stairs to greet her boys. Castle got to the bottom step and she leaned in, nibbled on James's ear before kissing his cheek. "Morning, Jay. I bet Papa will let you sleep in the bouncy chair."

"I definitely will. I have a couple sales I've gotta box up."

"How's that going?" Castle said, standing still for her so she could brush the sleep-damp hair back from her baby's face. She couldn't carry him, but her husband was doing everything he could to make it not as completely frustrating as it could be.

"Business is good," her father said. He'd started buying and selling fishing gear on ebay, mostly because he'd inherited some old equipment from a friend who'd retired to Florida. It had become a thing, refurbishing old wooden reels, making his own lures, all the accoutrements. He made a few trips to the post office a week, shipping product.

"You didn't bring the fishing hooks with you, right?" she said, lifting her head as it occurred to her. "Because Sasha-"

Castle snorted. "Sasha? _James_ would be all in that. Sasha isn't stupid."

Kate laughed, turned to smack Castle's shoulder and happened to catch James's leg. "Oops, sorry, baby, I was trying to spank your daddy. He was trying to insinuate you weren't so smart, Jay. I think-"

"Not that he's not smart," Castle grumbled. "Just a little relentless when it comes to curious things."

"He is that," her father interrupted. He was reaching out to take James from Castle. "You're good at getting into things. And popping off the baby locks. And opening the door."

"Is he opening the basement door?" Kate gasped.

Castle and her father shared a look.

"You didn't _tell_ me?" she snapped, shooting Castle with a glare. "What if I'd been alone with him and hadn't-"

"The pet gate is up in the door. The cage one, you know. Keeps the dog out so it's gotta keep James out too."

"You _hope_," she muttered, not happy. Something else she'd missed, sleeping away her day. "And - why is Dad here so early? What's going on? You know I hate surprises."

"You love surprises. You just don't like things going on without you."

She glared at him, heard her father chuckling as he carried James away from them. Kate rounded on her husband, ready to fight with him, _spoiling_ for a fight, but he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with the rough need of his lips on hers.

She went still, fight draining out of her at the way he took it. It thrilled her, how he wanted so much from her, wanted even when she struggled to give - emotionally, yes, unfortunately always, but now physically, these damn restrictions. But sometimes he just took.

He broke from her with a breathlessness that showed in his eyes and she grinned, butted her cheek to his chin as she moved in to wrap her arms around him.

"I love you," she mumbled.

"And you don't even know what your surprise is," he husked.

"That was surprise enough."

"Gets better," he promised with a whisper.

She shivered and turned her head, saw her father had disappeared into the kitchen. Probably to make himself a cup of coffee, grab James's breakfast of rice cereal - give her and Castle a moment alone.

"You ready, Kate?"

"Ready," she rushed. So ready. He was taking her out of here? She wanted to go, anywhere he wanted.

* * *

Castle held her hand in his as he drove, their fingers laced together between the seats. She had pulled her knees up at first, and he'd worried that it was too much, this early in the day, that he hadn't calculated correctly and she was struggling, but that didn't seem to be the case.

She'd dropped her feet back to the floor and angled her body towards him, and he had realized she wanted only to be close.

That was a good feeling.

They'd officially gone through the last of the journal homework, but they'd taken to writing down moments from their days at home so far, moments of joy like King had suggested, a story to share that the other had missed.

Castle had been experimenting with writing down his nightmares when they woke him, and that had helped, especially when he diverted the narrative to something a lot more sexy. Beckett's idea, that one, and it was working. Nightmare erotica probably shouldn't be quite as arousing as it was.

She squeezed his fingers. "East Village?"

"Mm-hm."

"What's open this early in East Village?"

"You'll see."

"You're insufferable, you know."

He grinned. It was because of her that things were turning around. She was relentless, like he had always known, but she was relentless in all things _them_. She was going to use everything in her arsenal to get them back on track - her intelligence and compassion, but also her snark and sarcasm. And he appreciated it.

He appreciated her. He appreciated the hell out of her.

"Stop grinning. You're being such a bully."

"I've heard it's my best feature."

She snorted, but she kept shifting in the seat, and her knees nudged against their clasped hands. He turned to look at her and saw she was _excited_.

Okay, fuck. He should've done this ages ago. Gotten her out of the house. A controlled environment would have been fine; he could have at least taken her to a damn movie.

He never seemed to learn.

Castle squeezed her fingers and turned off onto 7th Street, began scouting for places to park. They would probably have to walk it, a few blocks anyway, but he didn't think she would mind. Their physical therapy sessions had started to build up her endurance, and a slow walk through the East Village might be just what she needed.

"You're killing me," she muttered. "Where are we going?"

"Little place I know."

He found a spot to park - it was tight, but he could make it. He shook off her hand and pulled up, put his arm behind her seat as he turned to look out the back.

He saw the flash of the car's windshield behind them and for one intense microsecond, adrenaline and fight poured through him.

And then he saw it was one of Mitch's guys, and it was fine, and he sucked in a breath and started to reverse the Rover back into the parking place.

"Damn, you're incredibly good at getting it in there," she said, glancing in the side view mirror.

Castle cracked a grin. "Tight spaces are my speciality."

Her head whipped to him, and she burst out into laughter. "Oh. Oh, babe. That's... yeah. Okay, I'm gonna give you that one because - to your credit - everything is a tight space for you."

His mouth dropped open.

She laughed again and patted his knee. "Park it good and tight, baby. I wanna get to this surprise of yours."

"Fucking hell. Forget the surprise. We could make out-"

"After my surprise," she said sweetly. Kate leaned in and kissed him softly, a little touch of her tongue against his lips. "Because I think it's coffee and I adore coffee."

"How'd you know?" he whispered, still stunned by the feel of her mouth.

"I'm a detective," she said, in an equally quiet voice. Her fingers traced up his thigh.

"You're a _spy_," he insisted. "But, seriously. How-"

"Abraco is close. And you didn't make me my cup this morning. Put the clues together, sweetheart. Doesn't make it any less awesome."

He grinned, felt a little shy at that look on her face. "Yeah, okay. Come on. Abraco awaits."

"You can feel me up while we stand in line," she said, as if in consolation.

"Was gonna do that anyway."

* * *

Kate sipped her cafe cortado as they stood at the wood and glass bar inside Abraco. The place was the size of a closet, but it had the warm scent of fresh, individually-brewed coffee to make it homey, while the yellow wood tones and ample light kept it open.

They were crowded in at the bar in front of the wide front window, the neon sign over Castle's head in fancy orange cursive. She cupped the white porcelain mug and inhaled the amazing aroma of seriously expensive and well-made coffee.

"You gonna eat this?" Castle said, nudging her brioche still in its brown-paper wrapper.

"In a second. You want half? I can't eat the whole thing."

"Yeah," he said without second thought. He was already unwrapping the egg and spinach on brioche. It smelled just as wonderful as her coffee, but she couldn't seem to give up the mug.

Castle had ordered an espresso, and they'd bought a couple of bags of coffee to take home with them, but when he'd seen her eyeing her choices under the glass counter, he'd ordered one of everything.

Every pastry, every frittata, every single item under glass, Castle had bought.

She had taste-tested most of them, though she'd intended to eat the brioche for her breakfast. Castle had inhaled a handful of the pastries after she'd gotten her bite, though he left the rose almond cookie to her.

"Tastes like soap," he muttered, nudging it her way again.

She grinned at him and flicked her fingers at the back of his hand. "I said I'd eat it. Give me a second."

"You're making love to your coffee, I know," he said, snarking back at her. It'd been a while since she'd seen him that easy with it. Made her heart happy. "Oh, fuck, this brioche is good."

She laughed as he groaned, holding the long flatbread style sandwich against his chest. He took another large chunk of it and she shifted on her feet, leaning her elbows against the bar. There were no sit-down tables here, no seats; it was too small a space for it. Great. She was tired too, and that sucked, but no way she was bringing it up.

Wait a second. Maybe she _should_. Wasn't that the point of all this? Castle couldn't trust her in her own recovery and so he was anxious over her all the time, kept her quarantined inside their own home, hovered.

"Hey," she said gently.

"Yeah?"

"Can we gather up our crazy amount of food and - maybe find a bench?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, swallowing his bite fast. He gave her a quick look, and she smiled at him, but they were both jumpy and over-solicitous, knowing this was kind of a pivotal moment for them.

She'd shown her weakness and he was just going to have to take it on the chin and say nothing or they both knew what happened next time. She'd clam up and he'd get frustrated, and it was the same cycle all over again.

She knew they both didn't want that.

"Let me go ask for to-go cups," he said. "Here, hand me your mug and saucer, babe. They'll make it up for us."

"After you bought out their whole pastry case, I guess so," she chuckled. But she handed over her coffee to his safe-keeping and watched him stride up to the counter with both their cups.

This was okay. It wasn't a big deal; plenty of people were leaving with their own food and drinks to find seats outside. It was standing room only.

Honestly, she didn't doubt that Castle had known that going into it. He _must _have known that Abraco would require them to stand for breakfast, that she'd have to soldier through. Maybe this had been her physical therapy for today, or maybe he'd just been testing her endurance.

Or. Ha. Maybe he'd been testing her willingness to be truthful with him.

Damn. Either way, she hadn't failed.

Castle came back to her with two lidded cups and a huge grin on his face. "They topped 'em up."

She smiled back, took the cup held out to her. "Yeah, babe. As well they should. We just spent over a hundred bucks here."

He grinned and shrugged, gathered up the large bag of their goodies. "You ready to find a bench?"

"Ready," she said. She cradled her cup against her chest where the heat would work into her skin, and she held out her hand for him. He had to juggle the bag and his own coffee, but he got a hand free and took hers, fingers lacing.

He looked about as pleased as James had when the boy had pried all baby locks off the cabinets. She brought her husband's hand up to her mouth and kissed it, and then she led the way outside again.

She didn't like how weak she still was, but she _loved_ the peace on his face. She could admit to her tiredness again and again if it meant he looked so damn good.

* * *

They were laughing.

It was a good feeling, laughing with her, and he'd eaten through about half the random pastries in the bag, so he probably had some kind of sugar rush too, but it was just really nice to be happy again.

Helped that he was getting more sleep at night. Helped that she looked like she could stand up without falling over.

Helped that she had just really honestly told him, _hey I gotta sit down_. Before she'd fallen over. Yeah. That too.

He didn't want to have to go. They had staked out a bench in one of those little side-gardens in East Village, a reclaimed abandoned lot where the community had planted a garden and put in tire flower beds and created seating from former bicycle frames. That kind of thing. Artsy and clever, a riot of nature within some pretty relaxed boundaries.

Someone had painted huge clay pots and planted tomatoes for the summer; he wondered who picked them when they were ripe.

"We should probably go," she sighed.

"Why?"

She lifted her head from her coffee cup - he knew it was mostly gone, could tell by the easy way she handled it - and she stared at him.

"We could walk around, if you want."

"Yeah?"

"You feel up to it, then yeah." It was a question and not a question at the same time. She chewed on her bottom lip a second, and then she looked off. Away from him. Thinking.

He gathered the bags of coffee and the rest of their pastries still at his feet, ready to go. She was trailing her eyes over the rush hour pedestrian traffic, a little longing in her gaze.

"No," she sighed. "I don't feel up to it."

"Then we'll sit here for a little while."

She snapped her head back to him, studying him as if she couldn't quite believe it. But she was trying, and so he was trying too, and they could do this. A morning spent away from the house? _One_ morning? Yeah, definitely, they could do this.

"Okay," she said softly. She leaned back against the bench again, resting on what were former bicycle spokes turned seat-backs. "It's not - killing you to be out in the open?"

"Not too bad, really," he promised.

"Sure?"

"We've got two guys at the entrance to the park and two more circling the block. Mitchell is at home guarding our flank. So, yeah, babe. I'm sure."

She gave him a slow smile, full of light. "I know it's stupid, just sitting here. But it - means a lot to me. So-"

"Don't thank me," he husked, shaking his head. "Shit, don't - it's - I should've thought of this weeks ago. We're both better off when you're happy."

She laughed, reached out to catch his hand. "Yeah, that's true. I'm not tormenting you too much, am I?"

"Naw, babe. Not too much. Just enough."

She leaned in against him, cheek to his shoulder, tugging his arm into her lap, their clasped hands between her knees. She felt sun-hot and tired, but she had been compromising her own happiness for too long. Compromising for _his_ sake. He could compromise some too. He could do more for her, even find ways to bring the outside in.

Castle sank back against the bench and let them be silent together, enjoy the day.

He found he really was enjoying it.

* * *

When Kate opened the door, Lanie was brandishing scissors like Edward himself, eyebrows dancing, mouth set in a no-nonsense line. "I am cutting your hair, Kate Beckett. Don't even. I am doing it right now."

Kate felt James hanging onto her shorts, a kind of helpless bewilderment washing over her. She glanced behind her to Castle in the living room, but he raised both hands. "Not my doing."

She turned back to Lanie but her friend had already pushed in the door and was closing it behind her, unrolling a plastic mat that had little pockets for everything - another pair of scissors, a razor, something that looked both razor and scissors, a comb, a pick comb, a neck brush, clippers, and a pair of scissors that had jagged edges for teeth.

"Did you stalk through the city with those scissors out?" Kate laughed, catching James's hand as he reached for the wicked-looking pair. "No, Jay. Not a toy."

James whined and twisted in her arms, and she let him down on the floor of the entryway. But instead of crawling off for his own toys or the dog, he sat back on his heels and reached for Lanie's pant legs, hauled himself to his feet, straining.

"No, you little monkey-man. Better listen to your mama."

James ducked his head and gave Kate a guilty look, or about as guilty as he ever got, and he dropped back to hands and knees and crawled towards Castle. "Da-da-da," he babbled, a noise with every scoot.

Kate chased after him, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him to his feet. "Can you walk for Aunt Lanie? Show off for us, Jay." She steadied him a moment, kissing the crease of his neck as he glanced between them, a fist in his mouth. "Come on, JP. Walk to Daddy."

Castle obligingly dropped the tablet computer onto the side table, put his elbows on his knees, and called for his son. "Come on, James. You can do it. Kate, take his hand out of his mouth so he can balance."

She laughed, but she did it, and James took a wobbling step forward. He had walked (listing to side to side) for a few days and then he had dropped back to crawling, evidently preferring speed over uprightness. "You got it, baby. Go see Daddy."

"Show your stuff, James," Castle urged. "Come on, Jay. You were almost walking for us just last week, kid."

Kate laughed again, distracting James, but he took a half-running step, wavered and then started walking. He kicked out his feet once or twice, like he couldn't understand why his bare soles were touching the rug, but he made it to the couch and fell into Castle's arms with a giggling happiness.

They all applauded, startling him so that he ducked into Castle's bicep and laid his cheek against his father's palm, smiling shyly.

"Look at you, big man," Lanie said. She dropped her gear on the chair and bent down to tickle James's belly - before they could stop her.

James shrieked and stiffened up, gasping with a kind of desperate hilarity. Castle grabbed him and shielded him from Lanie's fingers, and Kate came up behind her friend and chuckled at the look on her face.

"Sorry, he's - I don't know. The tickling totally gets him. He laughed so hard last time that he threw up. We've been avoiding tickles after meal times."

Lanie stood up fast, withdrawing her hands. "Oof. That would not be pretty. Sorry, buttmunch. Another time."

"Butt... what?" Castle said, sounding horrified. Lanie was pushing Kate back towards the kitchen, picking up her tools as she went.

"Munch. You never heard that one? That's a good one," Lanie shot back. "Besides, you guys call him wolf and jungle parasite. I think buttmunch is relatively mild." She was dragging a chair out from the kitchen table and placing it so that when she pushed Kate down into the seat, she was facing the boys on the couch.

"Mild? Buttmunch. I - no. I have never heard that one." Castle was giving Kate a look for it, like it was her fault because Lanie was her friend.

"I've heard it," she admitted, shoulders hunching as Lanie's nails dragged through her short hair. "But it's not bad. Means like an annoying little kid."

"Basically," Lanie muttered over her head. "Lean back, Beckett. I'm fixing to do your hair."

"_Fixing to_-?" Castle mouthed at her.

She grinned back and shrugged; Lanie came out with weird ones from time to time.

James had settled again, and he wriggled down off the couch and started crawling towards the dog on the floor below the back windows. Sasha's tail wagged across the rug and and her head came up, inching forward on her belly. After a moment, they realized that the dog was mimicking James, bobbing her head and scooting towards the baby.

"Oh, jeez," Lanie laughed. "No wonder that boy won't walk. He's got the dog encouraging him. James, buttmunch, you ain't no puppy. Get up on your feet."

Everyone stopped, even James, turning to look at Lanie as if in surprise. Kate burst out into laughter, breathless with it as she realized her friend was right - the dog was encouraging him.

Castle stood from the couch and bent over the kid, lifted him up on his feet. "Humans go upright, little wolf."

"And you ain't helping him either, calling the poor baby a wolf. Jay-P, don't you listen to 'em."

Castle got James to stand and then released all but one little hand wrapped around his finger, obligingly let the boy lead him around like that. James seemed thrilled to have his daddy hanging on to him, and he kept tilting his head way back as if to see so far up to Castle's face.

"Hey, there, wolf. Doing a good job. Promise. Keep going. Almost there."

Kate grinned at the sight and then Lanie flourished a towel she'd yanked from the clean stack on the kitchen table, wrapped it around Kate's neck.

"Here we go, Kate Beckett. I am gonna make you look like a million bucks."

Castle turned at that, pierced Kate with a rather forlorn look. "Make it look like it was done on purpose, Lanie, and I'll pay _you_ a million bucks."

* * *

Castle had James asleep on his chest strapped into the baby bjorn while he folded laundry and felt about as unspylike as he ever had in his life.

Dropping another tiny little washcloth into the basket, he paused to cup his hand over the top of James's head, needing a moment, his breath catching in his chest.

Ten years ago, this hadn't been him. Five years ago. Not even when he'd had dreams about this boy climbing like a monkey into a window and rescuing his father had Castle really thought about this part of it. About how he'd carry the boy strapped to his chest and fold his small clothes and obsess over how many hours he'd slept that night.

"I think it was all night but Mommy said you were awake this morning," he whispered. "Maybe that's why you fell asleep on me, huh?"

James was sleeping so hard he was open-mouthed drooling on Castle's shirt, soaking the white material down to where he could actually see the dark impression of the inked wolf.

It wasn't difficult to be right back there in that Cologne tattoo parlor, that ragged grief that wouldn't let go of him. He didn't need reminders of that kind of pain, that visceral lost-ness. But the association now of his son, his sleeping, peaceful boy on top of the wolf tattooed on his chest - that was definitely necessary.

It was good to have drool on his shirt and the slack, warm body against him, right over the tattoo so that the two wolves were beginning to meld. Castle needed that to happen. He _needed_ his son to keep reminding him of what they'd gotten out of their bargain with the devil.

He left the socks in the bottom of the basket with her underwear - she was picky about how they were folded - and then he carried the whole load back up the basement stairs. In the kitchen, the house sounded unnaturally quiet, so he moved into the living room to check things out.

Kate was asleep on the couch with the dog, both curled like puppies, the television on mute. Castle lowered the basket to the coffee table, cupped the back of James's head and gathered up the remote. He turned off the tv - international house hunters or something (Kate was always jotting notes about local color or mores) - and he moved back to the couch.

Castle sank down on the coffee table before her, managed not to disturb either Kate or Sasha. The dog had buried her nose in under Kate's arm, which she'd taken to doing when Kate's systems seemed more in balance than not. It was a good sign. When Kate's bloodwork was out of whack, they'd noticed that Sasha laid at her side with her muzzle on her paws, eyes sad and watching them, with her ears laid all the way back, alert. But when Sasha was relaxed, tongue hanging out, that doggy grin on her face rather than the wolf - then it meant good things for Kate's health.

With James asleep on his chest and Kate asleep on the couch, it was easy to remember why everything was so worth it, why this was so good and right. Back when he'd been scared and alone and Kate dying - an afternoon like this had seemed so impossible to ever have again.

Therapy had gotten him back here, given him the peace of mind to enjoy this rare moment of quiet. Therapy and high doses of stronger-now-Kate. Yeah, fuck, that was a lot of it.

And stupidly, her hair looked really sexy like this. That had been a wound he hadn't known he was carrying. But Lanie had reshaped it, given it layers and angled it at her chin and it was - he liked it a lot. And somehow that wound had healed and subsumed into the general terribleness of that day so that it was just one more thing to note, one more memory and not a raw exposed nerve.

Castle rubbed his thumb on the back of the baby's head, the toddler - sixteen pounds and longer now than Castle remembered when he'd last carried him in the bjorn. And definitely the kid was going to skip walking and go straight to running.

But enough of this. Castle stood up again and took the laundry basket from the coffee table and headed for the stairs. He would put the laundry away and then he'd settle in his office chair and carefully review Mason's mission updates while his son slept against his chest.

And then they'd have dinner together, all of them, laughing as they tried to convince James to eat rice cereal and pureed green beans. Just like that, the summer had begun to creep by them, and soon it would be July, and they'd go back to their jobs stronger and more determined and capable than they had before.

At the top of the stairs, Castle paused to kiss the top of his son's head, not even needing the reminder of joy, feeling it come anyway and settle in and stay there, a permanent part of him.

* * *

Maybe it was pathetic how much a simple trip for coffee and a haircut could reframe her whole existence, but she felt really good. And continued that way, days later, still buoyed by fresh air and sunshine and Castle's easy smile.

Her contentment fueled his, and they were in this great feedback loop where she would find him with the baby in the kitchen and smile, and then he would smile back, and then James would squeal and shove his fist into his mouth and spray rice cereal everywhere.

This afternoon, one month after their tragic affair in Paris, life wasn't exactly normal, but it was pretty miraculous. And they would never be normal anyway.

Kate said good-bye to her dad at the front door, grateful for his help, and when she came back to her son and husband, they were whispering together, heads bent close as they sat on the couch.

"What's going on?"

Castle cupped his hand around James's ear and said something she could almost hear. James tilted his head with a listening look and then grinned really huge and threw up both arms.

"Ma-ma-ma!"

She laughed. "Yeah. That's me. You guys are cute."

"Mama!"

Castle leaned in again and said something else, and James got a funny look on his face, concentration pouring into his whole being.

"Mama?"

"What's-"

"Me-me!"

Castle laughed and leaned back into the couch, nodding at her. "Best I could do. He's almost got 'mommy'. We were working on 'up' for weeks, but I guess he doesn't have that sound yet."

"Up?"

"Off restrictions, babe. As of - well, tomorrow, really, but I'm your PT, right? So I say today."

"Up," she said, wonder crowding her throat. She moved to the boy and leaned down, wrapped her arms around him on the couch. "Hey, wolf. Want your mommy?"

"Mama."

She got on her knees to draw him against her chest, wanting to be smart about it, and then she brought her feet under her and stood.

With her baby boy in her arms.

James cuddled down against her, warm and snuggly like he always was in the late afternoon before dinner. She kissed his cheek and kept her arms under his bottom and across his back, but he was good and still, not pushing her limits.

"Hey, there, Jay. Oh, I've missed you too."

James clutched handfuls of her t-shirt and snuffled against her chest. She laughed softly and glanced up when Castle stood. He came to them and wrapped his arms around them both, kissing her forehead and then James's cheek.

"Looking good, Beckett."

"Feeling good," she said. Really good. So good. She leaned into his embrace and kissed the scruff on his jaw from the late afternoon and a lazy shave this morning. "Love you."

"Love you, too. Don't we, wolf?"

"Mama!"

Kate laughed and kissed her baby. "I think that's the best I'm gonna get. Even being half super. Huh, kid?"

James ducked his head with a shy smile and buried his face in her shirt. Adorable little boy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Close Encounters 25**

* * *

"It's late," he commented. Castle winced the second it left his lips, glanced over at Kate with an apology. "Not how I meant it. I just - not like that."

"Well," she sighed. "I am pretty tired."

He kept his mouth shut, just watched her, and she finally shook her head.

"Yeah, it's late. I might go to bed." Kate released James from her arms and the boy immediately slithered straight off the couch, scooting across the floor to get his hands on Sasha.

"Do you - need anything?"

"You asking if I need you to carry me upstairs?"

Castle shook his head, though maybe he was. They'd gotten to a precarious balance and he wasn't looking to upset it. He watched James clutch at the dog even as Sasha got to her feet, bringing the boy up with her. James giggled and draped himself over the dog, cheek to Sasha's back, and the puppy's tail wagged.

Kate sighed. It was a sad sound and it made him reach over and take her hand, lace their fingers together. "Not for much longer, Kate."

"It sucks."

"I know."

She turned on the couch and came and buried her face in his lap, arms wrapped around his waist. He lifted his hand and laid it on her back, slowly rubbed her spine through her shirt. He didn't speak; he had a feeling she just wanted to wallow in her misery for a few minutes.

She was getting stronger, but he knew Kate - she wanted to be everything right this second. Everything for him, everything for their son. She hated to be restricted.

He scratched her back, used his other hand to comb through her hair. It wasn't that short, really, longer than he'd feared. The layers came in around her chin and the back of it was shaggy, like the resulting lack of weight gave her hair the freedom for waves.

It was cute, and when she styled it like Lanie had done, it was sexy, and it made him happy rather than sad. He figured that was a huge step forward for him, not seeing his father's handiwork every time he looked at her.

Sasha and James were doing a slow, halting step around the coffee table, the boy grinning as he lurched along beside the dog. He was practically riding Sasha, so much of him was draped over her back for support.

"Think he's gonna be walking any day now," Castle said softly. "He'll just let go of the dog and keep on going."

James, as if he knew he was being talked about, gave out another hard-chuckling laugh, the one that made him sound older than his years. He stood up straighter, both fists still clamped in the wolf's fur, and the two tandem-walked towards the television, Sasha like a guide dog for the boy.

Kate grunted and lifted her head, turned to look at the baby. "Hard to be miserable with you laughing it up over there, Jay."

James chuckled again and patted the top of Sasha's head, the dog staying so still for him. He put his cheek back to her fur, and the wolves both looked pretty happy with their arrangement.

"No fair. I can't even throw myself a pity party in all this cuteness." Kate was grumbling, but she was also sitting up and looking happier. She stood without his help and only swayed a moment, and when she turned to look at him, she waved off his unspoken offer. "I can do it. I'm just gonna crawl into bed. Shower in the morning."

"Okay. I could - put him down for bed-"

James squawked in protest, head coming up off the dog so suddenly that he lost his balance - and his grip - and plopped down on his bottom on the rug.

"No, don't make him go," she sighed. "He's been staying up until ten."

"Yeah," he admitted. Last night, night before, for at least a week now, bedtime for the kid had gotten pushed back.

"Finish up your work, let him play with the dog. I'll just be sleeping." She did ruffle his hair as she moved away, and he wondered if she was upset with him, or just unhappy with herself and the slow progress of her endurance.

But she didn't want him constantly hovering, and he had to relearn how to let her go. They were much too independent - both of them - to sustain his kind of needy solicitousness for much longer.

And he did have work to do - catching up on the regimen test results from the medical team. She had helped him with it after they'd had dinner, making comments or coming up with the missing pieces he hadn't known, but they were still under that three-month suspension and there wasn't much work for them to keep her mind off of her recovery.

She bent over the baby and cupped his cheeks, kissed him on the mouth as she said good night.

Maybe getting Beckett back to spy work was the best thing for them. He should've thought of that. He had plans to make now.

"Hey," he said, even as he picked up the tablet again. "Where's my good night kiss?"

She turned her head to look at him, raised a little eyebrow. "Gotta wake me up for it when you come to bed."

* * *

When he'd finished for the night, Castle glanced up from his work to find his son still wrestling with the dog.

"Okay, kid. You remember the deal."

James lifted his head from the dog to look at Castle.

"Don't give me that. You know what I'm talking about. Being good to Mama."

"Mama?"

"Yup." Castle sank down to the floor and watched his son take fists of the dog and come stumbling toward him. "Hey, look at you, son, that's exactly it-"

He caught himself right after he said it, shook his head against the choke in his throat. James was taking cautious steps with the dog shuffling beside him, but he looked intent on Castle. When the boy got to him, Castle held out his arms and James fell into him, clutching his shirt.

He embraced the boy, softly kissed his cheek. "Not going to call you 'son.' He called me that, you know, and it meant nothing. It was a way to keep from ever making it personal, a way to make me his possession."

"Dadada."

"Yeah, James. That's me. I'm just going to call you by your name, or Mom's nickname for you - Jay. You like that?"

"Mama?"

"She went upstairs to bed."

James made a round 'o' face and pushed off of Castle's chest, like he was surprised. It made Castle chuckle, and he caught the boy by the waist to keep him from toppling over.

"You remember our deal? We're going to make Mommy happy, cheer her up. And you know how we can do that? We're going to work on walking. Won't she be so excited to see you walk?"

"Ock," James echoed, his eyes tracing Sasha as the dog stepped into them.

"Walk, that's right." Castle patted Sasha's back and then nudged her away, wanting to get her clear from James's grasp. "No crutch. Just you and me."

James beamed back at him.

"Yeah, I know. I said it was me and Mommy, didn't I? But it can be you and me, Jay. I've figured that out, at least. You and me doesn't take away from me and Mom." He brushed a hand up over James's spiky hair, smoothed it down. "It's not a choice, is it? I keep thinking it's got to be a choice. But I don't want it to be."

The boy twisted in his arms, wanting to be set free or wanting to get on with it already. Castle could practically hear him rolling his eyes - if he was capable of it.

"Yeah, I know. Get on with it, right? Okay. We're going to practice walking for Mommy so we can surprise her in the morning."

James waved both hands as if in excitement, and Castle got up on his knees to set James away. He let go so that the boy was standing on his own, and then Castle backed up a little, dragging Sasha with him by the collar.

"Okay. No wolf help. Just you and me, James." He held out a hand to the boy, urging him forward. "Come on. You can do it. You're already so close."

James's little fingers spread out as if for stability and he swayed on his feet, clearly thinking about it.

"You got it, Jay. You can do it. Just take a little step forward." Castle scooted back just as James wavered forward. "Yeah, that's it. You got it."

The boy lifted both hands to Castle, straining towards him, but not moving.

"I'm here. All you have to do is take a step. Come on, Jay." He held out both hands now, turned his head for a second to give Sasha a sharp _stay_. He looked back at James, wriggled his fingers. "You've been doing it all this time. Now without the dog."

"Dadada," James babbled, beginning to look anxious.

"I'm right here. I'm here. Not going to leave you. You know I love you, Jay. You know I do. Come on."

James was rocking on his feet, hands held out to Castle, so he scooted in a little more, nearly touching the boy's fingers.

"Here we go. How's this? I'm not going to leave you out here alone. It might be kind of scary, but-"

All of the sudden, James rocketed forward, taking two running steps right into Castle's arms with a sharp laugh. Castle grunted and fell back, embracing his son, only to get Sasha's licking-tongue excitement all over them.

"Okay, okay, you did it. You were running, but that counts. What a good job, James."

He kissed James's cheeks like Kate always did, cupping the little face in his hands, even as Sasha bounced around them, threading through Castle's raised knees to get at them.

James made a kissing noise back and patted Castle's chest, babbling _dadada_ as Castle hugged him.

"You ready? We'll go again. We can surprise Mommy when I go wake her up for my good night kiss."

"Iss!"

Castle laughed and kissed him, just because he'd asked, and then he set the boy away again. Farther away this time, more than arm's length.

It wasn't a choice; he didn't want it to be a choice. He loved Kate but that didn't mean that the bursting love in his chest for his son was a betrayal of her.

James bounced a little, like he might try jumping this time, and Castle grinned back, held out his arms.

"I'm really glad you're here. You know that? Didn't think I'd be able to say that, but it's true. Love you, Jay-"

And right at that moment, James started walking. Straight for his father's arms.

* * *

Kate woke instantly, going from deep sleep to awareness like she hadn't been asleep at all. She held her breath, sensing a presence in the room, something both familiar and other that touched her like fingers on her neck, intimate. She didn't open her eyes at first, too heavy to come the rest of the way, and she guessed it was somewhere around eleven.

Only a little over an hour since she'd gone to bed, and_ he_ definitely should be. James. He was in her bedroom.

Where had Castle gone? He couldn't be far behind their little wolf.

She could hear James moving, so silent, intent on something, she didn't know what. She didn't open her eyes to look, drifting a little with the calm sense of him with her. She could picture his sweet face, the tilt of his head and the serious grey-blue eyes, the way he studied and focused until he'd accomplished it. Whatever it was.

What was he doing?

Kate cracked an eye open and saw her baby boy, saw his fisted hands held out before him, walking.

Walking.

Holy shit.

Castle had said it would be soon, but she hadn't really believed it - James was so young - and now look at him. Kate shifted in bed, but James had his back to her now, feet planted firmly before the chair next to the open bathroom door. He was doing something there, focused, and Kate lowered herself back to the bed to watch, keeping quiet.

She didn't want to startle him, standing as he was at the chair with his hands in little fists, moving something around or building something. Did he have his blocks? She didn't see any toys. But he had definitely been walking - that short distance she had seen when she'd opened her eyes.

She wanted to see him do it again, but she didn't want to interrupt his game.

Kate watched him from her spot on the bed, kept her cheek against the mattress, let the pillow hide her. James seemed to be either resting or gearing himself up, but then he turned and she could see what he'd left on the cushion of the chair.

Cheerios?

She was so confounded by the cheerios that she almost missed his first step. He rocked forward and seemed to pitch himself headlong across the floor, rushing towards his next stop. But the whole time - he was so quiet and steady, so silent, a natural gift for stealth. Her little spy baby.

James got to her bedside table, right beside her, and she held her breath to keep from catching his attention. James got a clenched hand up to the wooden top and then opened his little fist. He placed a small Cheerio right before her alarm clock, very precisely, just so. He seemed to study it a moment, and then he wobbled and turned straight to her.

He swayed precariously on the rug before the bed, but his hands remained in stubborn fists. His eye level was below the mattress, and he hadn't seen her yet. James slowly opened a hand as he stood, and revealed his precious cargo.

He had two Cheerios left in that fist, and they seemed to be stuck to his sweaty little palm. He stood there, thinking, waving his hand a little, perplexed at this problem, and Kate pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

She heard a soft noise that didn't disturb James's concentration, but when Kate looked, she saw Castle standing in the doorway, watching their son from the hall, staying hidden. He put a finger to his lips and she echoed him, turning her eyes back to their son.

The boy managed to get both cheerios unstuck from his hand. He looked so pleased with himself that Kate nearly ruined it by laughing, but she waited, mounds of pillows and bedcovers keeping her hidden, and she watched.

James had one Cheerio in each hand in a pincer grip, and he lifted his head to study his next goal - the mattress.

Kate froze, closed her eyes to keep from ruining it.

She could hear him only barely, the sound of his bare feet scuffling the rug as he got closer, and then his breathing as he worked his way to the bed. She felt the small little bump as his jerky movements made him collide with the mattress, and then she could feel the stretch of the sheet under her as he clung with one hand.

It was a familiar feeling from these last few weeks. Castle liked to turn James loose, let the boy wake her up in the morning when coffee was ready. He would try to climb the bed to get to her, and sometimes he was half successful.

She was dying to know what came next, aching to open her eyes, but she didn't want to ruin it. She wanted him to leave his Cheerios like a little Santa and then go back to his daddy so proud of himself.

But damn, it took everything in her not to peek.

Then she felt little fingers on her face, careful and soft, and she had to open her eyes. She absolutely had to see him.

He was peering at her, close, nose to nose, and she smiled. It made him smile back, the shy one tonight, and he buried his face in the side of the bed.

"James," she murmured, lifting a hand from the mattress to skim his shoulder and up to his head. She saw Castle haunting the doorway now and she gave him a beckoning look, then glanced back down at James. "Hey, baby. What are you doing with those?"

"Daddy?" he asked.

"Daddy's right here."

James made a frustrated noise and she saw he still had his Cheerios, but they were in each fist now.

"Are you delivering Cheerios?"

"Mom-ma!"

She laughed as Castle came into the room. "Yeah, they're stuck in your hand again. I see."

"Uck," he echoed.

She saw Castle squatting down just beyond him, leaving them alone to interact. She reached out and opened his left fist, untangling him from the fitted bedsheet. The Cheerio was perched on his palm. "I saw you walking, little wolf. You like walking?"

"Ock."

"Walking with Cheerios stuck to your hand," she murmured. She rescued both Cheerios from his hands, and she set them in a row on the edge of the mattress between them.

James gave her a beautiful smile, sweet surprise, a kind of dawning adoration.

"Yeah," she hummed. "Not the only one who likes things to line up, Jay."

Castle loomed over James now, inserting himself into their tableau, and James tilted his head back to look, falling backwards into his father. Kate smiled to herself as Castle picked him up, and James silently leaned towards his lonely Cheerios.

But no, he was leaning for her, and Kate sat up and received the boy into her arms. James squirmed in close to her chest and Kate hugged him back, kissing his temple and cheeks, his sweat-and-cheerios-smelling neck.

"Kate," Castle warned.

"I'm okay," she promised. "I'm really okay."

But of course, it was late for her, and it had been a PT day, and she was still exhausted; she'd been woken from a dead sleep. Her arms were shaking so badly Castle might have to take her son before she dropped him.

If she couldn't endure carrying her son, she couldn't possibly hold up her firearm on the range and get her qualification back. Damn it. She really wanted to do that. Next on her list.

"Did you see him walking?" she asked, changing the subject.

Castle grinned and sank down on the mattress with them. "Yeah. We were practicing for you downstairs."

Kate kissed her boy's cheek as he laid against her. "You're all worn out from walking, aren't you? What a good job you did, Jay. You like it?"

"He was excited when I pulled out the Cheerios for reward, but I think he likes hanging on to Sasha more."

James popped his head up to look at his daddy, eyes bright. "O's?"

"You had a lot of O's, wolf. And then you wanted to play with them."

James buried his face back down in her shirt as if ducking his daddy's frown, but then a wide yawn cracked his face.

"James, say good night to Mommy. You need to be in bed."

At _bed_, James stiffened and wriggled as if to get away, but he went from one side of her chest to the other, hiding his face in her neck. Hiding from bedtime.

Kate laughed, glanced up at Castle. He was shaking his head, but she could see a faint amusement splintering his serious and sober concern.

"I'm okay," she reminded him. "A couple hours isn't the end of the world. And it's even better if you help. Let him sit with us? He'll settle down."

Castle sighed, shoulders slumping, but he never said no. He _never_ said no. Even though they both knew James wouldn't fall asleep like this.

Castle crawled into bed with them and he wrapped his arms around them both, being her strength while hers kept failing.

James lifted his head from her and grinned at them both. "O's?"

"You gave them all away, little wolf," Castle said. "Now lay down. It's bedtime for you _and_ for mommy."

And James laid back down again, though they all knew it wouldn't be for long.

* * *

Castle gave up.

"All right. We're done. Mommy needs sleep more than you do, that's for sure, and she's not getting it."

"No, no, Castle, I'm-"

He gave her a look - he _knew_ it was a 'father-face', as she called it, the stern one reserved for when James was being stubborn - but he couldn't help it. She was worse than the baby. He took James off of her chest and swung his own feet out of bed, heading for the kid's room.

"Wait," she sighed. "Wait, let me come with you."

He didn't protest. After a day with PT, she was more wobbly than James, but the boy got his stubbornness from her, that was for damn sure. Nothing Castle said was going to make her stay down when it came to bedtime. She was adamant. It was her new rule - when they were here, James got them both.

Of course, Kate was the one who had been forced to hold Castle down in bed last week. James had been waking up in the middle of the night, and maybe it had started out as needing that reassurance that they both would come when he cried, maybe he had just needed to see their faces, but after days of three in the morning wake-up calls and Castle trudging to the crib and gathering his son to his chest - well, Kate didn't need that either, trying to recover.

James had just wanted to play. It had been King's idea that maybe they should just let him cry it out, see if he'd go back to sleep when they didn't come. But Castle's sense of guilt hadn't been comfortable with that idea.

He'd told her, _tie me to the bed if you have to_. James had cried and, yeah, sure enough, Castle had woken to find himself handcuffed. When and where in the hell she'd found the energy to do that, he'd had no idea, but it had worked. He hadn't gotten up to get James out of bed that three a.m. and James had cried for a solid hour.

And then fallen asleep.

And hadn't woken up since. Back to sleeping through the night, and perfectly fine.

"Bedtime, kiddo. Stop squirming. It's nearly eleven-thirty," he muttered. But he found himself brushing his lips over James's temple, his cheek, as he waited for Kate at the door.

She made it to him, moving slowly but at least not hunched over. The PT was getting her back into fighting condition, rebuilding her body after the advanced chelation had worn it down so badly. And the sweating helped her get rid of toxins, so even if it made Castle discontent, watching her exhaust herself, he was on board with the sweating.

They still found other ways to sweat.

"Ready," she said, nudging him. "James, baby, no. Don't pull on my hair."

Castle angled James away from her, unwrapping the hair from the boy's fist. He was fast, and he'd figured out that twirling his fingers in her hair made Mommy sappy as hell, and he got his way like that. He was a clever little wolf.

"How fast did he learn to walk?" Kate murmured, her fingers wrapped around James's little fist. "Just in one night?"

"That's not that fast," he answered. "I looked up the baby milestones. Some kids are walking as young as eight months. He's nine."

"Yeah," she said, sounding a little distracted.

When they got to the baby's room, James wriggled a little as if to test the bonds of Castle's arms. He didn't offer any flexibility, and besides, James was rubbing his face against Castle's chest, obviously on his way down.

"It's late, Jay. You'll feel so much better with some sleep." He found a Cheerio in a fold of the boy's pajamas and plucked it out, hid it in his back pocket before James could see it. "Don't fuss, wolf. You got a lot of extra time out of Mommy."

"And maybe no more snacks right before bed, Castle. Stirs him up."

He grunted and gave her another look - she wasn't the one wrangling the kid twenty-four/seven, but that wasn't her fault either. She _wanted_ to be the one. She had absolutely hated being on restricted movement with James.

Castle leaned over the crib and laid James in it, but the boy scrambled back up, clutching the bars and offering his best pouting face. "Daddy." A quivering lip. "Momma. Mommy, Mommy, Mommy."

"Oh, that's - he doesn't call me mommy-"

"Nope. Bedtime. No exceptions, no take-backs, no do-overs," Castle declared. "And if you're not sleepy, kid, you can play with the lullaby machine." He reached in and thumbed on the plastic lights-and-sounds playskool thing; it set up a soothing tone and the screen cast a pale blue glow across James's bed.

"Sorry, baby, but I think Daddy's right. We both need sleep," Kate murmured. She reached in and cupped his cheeks, kissing back and forth until James's giggled, and then she released him, both beaming smiles.

James's was shy, a little awestruck. But he reached for her when she stepped back, fingers out, straining. "Mama."

Castle took his hand and kissed those fingers. "You make Mommy really happy, wolf, but it's bedtime. Love you. You know I do. But time for bed."

He kissed the top of James's head and moved Kate for the door. She went easier than he'd thought, and at the threshold, she was the one to turn off the light.

They heard James's rump hit the crib mattress and then his fingers on the lullaby machine. They could see his face in the blue glow, already growing slack with tiredness. He'd be asleep soon.

Now for Kate.


	9. Chapter 9

**Close Encounters 25**

* * *

His eyes were like flint as he said it, and he didn't look at her. He just pushed their Rover to go faster.

"Gun range?" Kate echoed, stunned.

He set his jaw, hands at ten and two on the wheel. He looked furious.

"Castle."

He finally gave her a look, fast and terrible as it was. "I don't want to. But you were right."

"Why don't you want me to?" she cried out. The car was going fast. Was he crazy? "Slow down. _Rick_. Slow down."

He clutched the wheel hard but his foot eased off the gas. She felt her galloping heart tumble to a canter. Fuck, what was with him today?

"I don't want to even - but you were right. You're the weak link in our security right now. And even though it's been necessary these past few months, it's not any longer."

She let out a breath, a little hurt by _weak link_ even though she'd said it first. She'd been saying it. She wanted out and she wanted her damn qualification test cleared up. She wasn't an invalid; she was strong.

Her arms were going to shake for the rest of the day if she did this, but she had to get in the practice if she wanted to pass her test. "Thank you."

"Damn it," he growled. "Don't thank me. Fuck. Fucking hell, Kate."

"Why are you so pissed at _me_?"

"I'm not pissed at you. I'm fucking pissed at myself. I keep doing this. I just refuse to see it when it comes to you. I'm your commanding officer and I can't even do a quality assessment of my agent in the field?"

"It's a little different."

He slammed the heel of his hand into the top of the steering wheel and she flinched. The wolf in him was out, and she hadn't seen Castle's snarl in months. She'd forgotten somehow, even with that tattoo as big as her fist on his chest; she'd forgotten how brutal he could be.

Easy to forget when this was the same man who rocked his son to sleep, wide hands cradling such a precious little body.

"It shouldn't be any different," Castle said finally, twisting the wheel in his hands as he drove. At least his speed stayed steady. "I should be better than this. I am _on_ the _fucking regimen_. I should be better."

"Hey," she said quickly, reaching out and playing with fire by taking his hand from the steering wheel. She squeezed his fingers, pried him off it by a thumb. "Hey. Regimen can't make you see past one really big blind spot, Rick. You love me. You love me and it makes it hard to think critically, to be unbiased about this."

"You do it pretty fucking well," he rasped.

Reflex - her first instinct - was to release his hand, curl in, and then go on the attack. But therapy battled past the wound and made her keep his hand, draw it to her lap to hang on to him. Not let him do it either. "I compartmentalize, yeah. You know I do that really well. But when it comes to you, I keep doing really stupid shit. Let's not forget Tunisia, baby."

A startled choking sound came out of his throat that she was going to score as a laugh. One point for Beckett. He tightened his fingers around hers now, with her for it.

"I thought it would be too soon," he said lamely. His jaw worked and then he sighed. "But you said _if I can hold James, I can hold my service weapon_. And I just - well, fuck. Of course you can. And why didn't I see that? I didn't want to see it."

"But you see it now. That counts for something."

"And how many weeks have we lost? Weeks where you could've been regaining that skill? Fuck - what if - what if you need it and you don't have it and it was my fault-"

"Castle," she interrupted harshly. "Castle. Do _not_ start that. That's not you."

"Maybe it is me. I feel like this damn regimen has ruined everything and he..."

She waited but he didn't finish it and her heart was trembling for him. He just got so deeply wounded when he was finally cut. It had taken a while to get him - everything usually just rolled right off of him - but when he'd finally been struck, his first blood was practically a mortal blow.

"I'm sorry, Rick." She lifted one hand from his and cupped the back of his neck, stroking his hair. "I'm so sorry."

"I was just... counting on it, you know?" he rasped. She could see him chewing on the inside of his cheek to keep it all under control. "Counting on it to come through for me because it's all I got from him worth a damn."

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

"He didn't even _teach_ me anything. He fucking threw me in the deep end, all the time. I've got James's hands in mine and I'm walking him across the living room and that's - that's how a father is supposed teach his son."

"Oh. Rick." She gripped his neck, heart twisting. "Baby. I know. I-"

"I don't expect to find that he loves me or - fuck. Fuck, I don't. I haven't for a long time. That piece in him is broken, I don't know. But he had me on the program, drilled it into me, and I thought, fucking hell, at least when I'm super - at least when I'm super, I can save us. I'm worth something."

"God," she croaked, rising up on her knees in the seat to lean into him. She pressed her mouth hard to his jaw just below his ear, trying not to absolutely wreck them, wanting so badly to wrap herself around him. "You're worth - everything. Everything. Don't-"

"I meant." His hand came up and gripped her by the bicep, squeezing. "I meant it like - protecting you, saving your life - just. Fuck. I don't know. But the regimen is his legacy, what he's given me, and at least I could use that to save you."

She sank back on her heels, tangled up in the seatbelt, and Castle shot her a fast look. There was a thunderstorm in those blue eyes, and she didn't like it.

"I hope that's not because of me," she got out. "Because I got - I got obsessed with the regimen and maybe you think that's the only way I want you? But that's not true, Castle. That's not at all true. I'd love you if you were..."

"What? A fucking accountant?" he laughed. It didn't sound good.

"Yes," she insisted. "I wouldn't be able to help it. An accountant. A teacher. A - a writer. You're - that essential part of you, that doesn't change no matter your job, the program. And in case you missed it, I don't need protecting, Rick. If you really were my accountant, you'd have learned that lesson."

He growled, indecipherable, but she didn't want this to fall off into silence. This stuff needed to be said, and maybe she was finally strong enough for him to feel like he could say it.

"Would you love _me_ if I was just a cop and you were just an accountant?"

His head swiveled to hers for half a second and then back to the road. "Would we even work if I were?"

"Would you give up on me?" she whispered.

"God, no."

"Just because you're an accountant doesn't change this," she insisted. But oh, something in her was so fucking relieved to hear him say that. "We used to - we used to talk about being normal. Do you remember that? You and me, we used to talk about doing that."

"And now we are?"

"Are we?"

His hands flexed on the steering wheel. "No. I - no."

"You're taking me to the shooting range as a reward for good behavior. No, we're not normal. And didn't we - we _both_ were so bored with it. When it happened to us. Like that weekend after you recovered from the super bug and we went out for drinks with the guys and then stayed in?"

"Yeah," he husked. "We were - it was pretty boring."

"So even - even if you were an accountant and I was a cop, or fuck, let's be wild here, if my mother had never been murdered-"

"What would you be?" he asked. "I've never even asked. Oh, I know. A lawyer. That's you."

"A lawyer," she said softly, but it hurt. It hurt, thinking about them not-fucked-up. "We wouldn't be here, would we? God, Castle, none of this - I wouldn't have you at all."

She turned her face to the window, sucking in a breath. She was going to cry. Fuck. Just like that and her confidence was shaken.

"You'd have me," he husked. His hand came out and roughly snagged hers, dropping heavy in her lap. "I'd find you. I'd - I'd have to need a lawyer at some point."

"We're really fucked up."

"We _were_." His hand squeezed hers. "Fuck, I didn't mean to drag you down with me. Beckett, come on. Gun range, see? There's the sign for it. Cheer up, you get to shoot out your frustration and rage in two miles."

She choked on a laugh and blinked hard as the sign flew past. He was going well above the speed limit again, but it wasn't like he didn't know how to drive like a damn professional.

"I just got pissed about overlooking something so big," he went on. "That's all this was. No existential crisis, I swear. I know what we are to each other. That's - damn, baby - that has never been in question."

She looked over at him, saw him take a quick look at her, but he kept his eyes on the road. She appreciated that too. She still had a hold of his hand, she wanted to get off this idea that they'd ever have been different people in another life.

She doubted, highly doubted, that a Kate Beckett untwisted by her mother's case could have held a man like him. Too young, too immature, too stupid, too willing to take the world for granted. There had been no mystery to the eighteen year old version of herself, and maybe college would have given her a little texture, but she hadn't any depth. No _purpose_ in her life other than the superficial idea to follow in her mother's footsteps.

She hadn't had purpose before Castle anyway. She'd had a crusade, a fucking death wish really, and she'd locked in on that one thing to the detriment of all else. Castle had locked in on _her_, and now here they were.

"It was so bad for me before you came," she got out.

His hand tightened around hers. "I - can say the same. It was - bleak, Kate. It was pointless before you came. You were everything good, and you've created all this with me, and I just - I wanted to be better for you."

She stroked her thumb over the back of his hand, glanced at him and tried to read his mind. "Why did this make you so upset, Rick? You didn't want me to do too much too soon. I understand. We've been battling about that for weeks."

"I was just - blind. I'm your damn PT, I've taken that on because we're keeping secrets about all of this, and I should've... I should've seen it."

"You saw it - finally. With maybe a little of my help. How is that different from all the other times?"

"I need to be able to do a damn assessment. I need to _trust_ my own judgment."

"This is such a small thing," she murmured. She still didn't understand why he was so torn up, why it mattered so much that the 'regimen had failed' him. "It's not the regimen's fault you had a judgment error. You've been protecting me, Castle."

"Exactly. I have to be able to trust my judgment because - when it comes to knowing your limits - I sure as hell can't trust you."

"Fuck," she whispered.

"Damn it," he sighed.

She drew her knees up and put her elbows on top, burying her head in her hands. Fucking hell. Fuck. That really - really hurt. Shit.

"Damn it. Kate."

"Fuck," she groaned, dropping her forehead to her knees to breathe.

"Fucking hell. Kate. Kate, just-"

"I have worked-" She lifted her head, staring out of the windshield towards the welcoming signs for the gun range just head of them. "I have worked _months_ trying to be - to be good."

"God. Kate-"

"I haven't even - I didn't even go for a _run_ until you were okay with it. I didn't even carry my son to _bed_ because-"

"Hell. Kate. _Stop._"

"Pull over," she croaked. "I want out."

"Kate."

"Pull over."

"No."

"I'm so - you broke my heart, Castle."

"Oh, God. Fuck. Kate."

She wanted to fucking hit him. He couldn't _trust_ her. She'd done _nothing _but follow his fucking rules. She'd been so good. It had killed her, not picking up her son, not _holding him _when he'd called for her and after he'd been crying himself to sleep for nine days-

"Kate."

He had pulled over.

She yanked on the door handle but Castle had already lunged for it, closed it back. "No. Stop it. Kate. I - didn't mean it like that, baby. Look at me. I'm dying here."

She choked and pressed her hands to her face. She couldn't-

"Wrong choice of words. Okay, okay, totally inappropriate, but you scared the shit out of me with that _breaking my heart_ shit. Kate. Fastest way to rip mine out. Okay? So are we even?"

She was holding herself stiffly in his arms, but she could still throw a fucking punch. She really wanted to. She really wanted to sock him for it.

"Okay, okay. Wow. We're both feeling a lot better if we're fighting, right? That's a good sign. Yay for therapy."

She wasn't going to let him make her laugh. Fucking hell, no. She was not laughing at that.

"And I know I'm always the talker, but you gotta say something here, baby. Look, here's the gun range. It's so close. I promise you can pretend that every single target has my face on it."

She grunted, but the laugh popped out. "I hate you."

"Yeah, sweetheart. I know you do. I know." He loosened his arms and she lifted her face, saw his eyes a little heartbroken. Well fuck, she was too. This whole time she had been so damn good, trying for him, trying not to push it, and he's-

"Hey," he whispered. "Don't. Let's just - let it lie. Work it out on the gun range, Kate, and I'll work on my issues. Because I know it's not fair to you. It's not fair to you and all the work you've done these past few months. Okay?"

She sucked in a breath; she really wanted to fucking punch him, or somehow make him pay, but he had taken all the wind out of her sails. She didn't have it left. She just wanted to go fucking shoot things.

"Start the car," she said finally.

He eased away from her, kept giving her looks, but he started the engine again.

He better. If the gun range didn't completely push her past her endurance, she was going to make him pay, she was going to _torture_ him for that.

* * *

"I need some help," she said sweetly.

Castle turned and stared at her, already decked out in their safety gear. She was smiling at him with that faint falseness to it that made his blood go cold, but she stepped up against his side and practically rubbed her breasts against his arm.

Whoa. Fuck. Kate. What-?

"Can you spot me until I get my aim back?"

"I..."

"Thanks," she said, her voice pitched low. Seductive.

Oh, hell. Oh, fucking hell, she was going to get him back right _here_.

"I..."

Beckett trailed her fingers down his arm until she got to his palm. His skin rippled under her touch and he rocked forward on his feet. A guy passing them at the front desk shot Beckett a look and Castle bristled, staring the asshole down until he went on his way.

Her fingers brushed his as she moved for their slot, and he jerked to follow her, knees a little weak.

"Kate?"

She didn't speak, didn't even turn to look at him, but he followed. He couldn't help but follow. He'd said some shitty things in the car on the way here; it had just come out all wrong. He didn't want to think about it. She was on her feet and striding away from him, so she was okay, right?

Castle slid his ear protection on his head and stepped into the booth with her, shut the door after them. Beckett had already started taking apart the weapon assigned to them by the range - she had disdained the use of his own gun, and she wasn't allowed to carry hers yet.

Maybe that was part of it. Residual anger...

Beckett had the thing back together in seconds, the clip snicking into place, and she spread her legs into an isosceles.

His palms were tingling.

Beckett slapped a hand against the red set button in the booth and the long track of the target moved into place at ten yards. She pressed the button again and it moved back to fifteen yards.

When she raised her hand to hit it again, Castle grabbed her by the wrist. "Start there, Beckett."

She shot him a death-glare and jerked her hand out of his grip, slapped the red button. The target moved back to twenty yards, and then again to twenty-five - the maximum.

At the far end of the track, the Q target was so small that Castle could only make out the curl of the tail on the letter in center of mass.

Beckett set up her spread, raised her arms, gauntleted her shooting hand with her left hand, cupping the base of her weapon. He saw her breathing, in and out in long, steady respirations, and then she put out a burst of weapons-fire.

She'd aimed for the head.

Fucking hell.

And she had missed.

"Beckett." But of course she couldn't hear him with the noise-suppressors on her ears. He sighed and rubbed his jaw, but Beckett had replaced the gun on the hip high platform and turned to him. He swallowed as she approached.

Her hand came to the right muffler and lifted it from his ear. Her body pressed to his body and he gulped, eyes trailing up to the ceiling where the red light was off on the surveillance camera. He'd flashed his credentials and gotten the equipment disconnected, but holy hell, this was not the place.

"Castle," she drawled in his ear. "Looks like I need some help with my aim."

"Beckett," he croaked. He could tell she barely heard him, but she must have seen his mouth moving. She snapped the protection back over his ears and he jumped when the sound popped in his eardrum.

She turned, her ass bumping his hip, and brought her hands down to his, tugged on him as she walked back to the shooting platform. She kept him on a short leash, his chest brushing the back of her shoulders, her hair in his nose and smelling sweet.

"Beckett-"

But of course she couldn't hear him. She brought him with her to the platform and she placed his hands on her hips as she reached for the gun. He groaned and dropped his chin into the crease at her neck, breathing through the curtain of her hair. Her hips twitched under his hands and he rubbed his thumbs over the rise of her ass.

She brought the gun up, shrugged her shoulder to get his attention. He lifted his head and saw down the line of her braced arms to the target.

Castle took a breath and skimmed his hands up her ribs and to her shoulders, bracing himself first, and then he clasped his hands around hers, ghosting her.

"Loosen up," he murmured at her ear. Whether she heard him or not, her body thrummed with tension for an instant longer before she relaxed.

Castle tilted his chin into her hair again, brushed it aside to get as close as the safety goggles would allow. He could feel her breathing within the cage of his body, against his chest and between his arms, and he couldn't help shifting a knee between hers, spreading her legs a little wider.

Kate let out a noise, a tremor went through her like she might cry, but in the next instant, she growled and unloaded the last of her clip into the target.

She hit the Q perfectly, a cluster center of mass without a second's thought.

* * *

She had him.

She had him hot and bothered and ready to fall all over himself at her least little command, and all it did was make her a little sick.

It didn't make her stop hurting.

Even the way he'd touched her while they were alone in the shooting booth, the video surveillance turned off, even that had only chased it away for a few minutes.

First time for everything. She usually felt so good when she had him. Not today.

There were deeper wounds, and she wasn't up to this.

"Kate?"

"I might sleep on the drive back," she said, curling her knees up into the seat. Castle paused, the car in gear, not even out of the parking lot. She put her head against the window. "It's a couple hours to get my strength back. Okay?"

He let out a noise like a sigh and she closed her eyes.

"No."

Her eyes flew open.

"No, it's not okay. Sit up, Beckett."

She turned to look at him, and he was backing out of the space and putting the car into gear. He met her eyes for a grim moment and she sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Feet on the floor," he said. "I mean. Please. A conversation. Instead of just - using sex to get back at me."

She swallowed and dropped her feet to the floor of the car, pressed her hands to her knees.

"You liked it."

"Yeah. Course."

She sighed, pushing her head against the headrest, clamping her lips together. He had always been able to get to her, from the beginning, abducting her on the side of the road and his fingers tracing the cuffs around her wrists in the glare of a spotlight. Interrogation turned flirtation, and the close of that Chinese spy case had sealed the deal.

Done deal. That's what they were. Didn't mean he couldn't hurt her and she couldn't hurt him. Didn't mean he didn't fucking _deserve_ it.

"Cause you made this little noise..." she trailed off, shooting him a look.

He grunted and the car rocked forward a little and she tried not to smile.

"That was a little new," he said, voice gruff.

"Something I've been thinking about," she gave. "Had a lot of down time recently."

"Fuck," he whispered.

She smiled, closed her eyes. Well, _she_ felt a little better. Didn't know about him, but that had boosted her confidence. The act of it hadn't been much more than urgent and desperate and angry, but she could relish the conversation now.

"So you wanted to talk?" she said.

"Well, hell. You always gotta feel like you're on top to be comfortable enough to talk to me, Beckett? Cause I thought we were better than that."

"And I thought you trusted me," she shot back. "So. You know. If I need to feel like I can twist you around my little finger, then fuck, I will."

He grunted and she wasn't feeling too kindly towards him anyway so she ignored it, but of course, part of her - part of her was still curled up in the seat.

He couldn't trust her? Fucking hell.

"I trust you," he said. "I do trust you. Let me clear up this miscommunication. What I meant was that you're amazing. You don't stop. You're going to show up and go fucking all out - no matter the personal cost."

"Well, that sounds lovely," she snarked. But it did make her proud, stupidly, even though she knew he thought it was terrible. "And you're so in love with that, aren't you? Because you're the personal cost."

"I... no. _You're_ the personal cost. That's what I mean. You ignore yourself. You, Kate. Because you don't think you're worth it or you don't see your own health or well-being as important enough. The ends don't justify the means."

She didn't know what to say to that. He was using her own rule against her; she was the one who always told him the ends didn't justify the means, that he couldn't just bully his way through to the right solution.

She couldn't bully her own body either. That's what he was saying.

"So I took that on," he said quietly. "That's my job, looking out for you. I don't want you any different, Kate. I love you. So it's my - my _honor_ \- my personal honor to look out for you. Like you look out for me."

She shifted to look at him. "Your honor?"

"Because you - you need me."

She opened her mouth but there was just nothing.

He sighed. "You need me and I dropped the ball. I wasn't there for you. I wasn't even super - if I had been super, then-"

"You still would have missed it," she said harshly. "Being super doesn't make me tell you things that I don't even know myself. I didn't _know_ it was so bad. It felt like panic attacks and I told you that - I'm being good for you, Castle. I am trying _everything_ to be good and to not-"

"What are you - I don't - if I had been super-"

"It's not about you," she hissed. "Super or not super has nothing to do with how far I fucking push myself. Super is for _you_, Castle. Because you need it to stay alive. To-"

"Are you hearing yourself?" he rasped. "Do you hear what lies you're telling yourself?"

"_Lies?_"

"You just said being super has nothing to do with how you push yourself. But I'm not super and you run to my father in Tunisia. I'm not super and you collapse in the rain in Paris. I'm not super and you-"

"Fuck," she croaked, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Just to stop him. Stop it.

"So don't pretend that the regimen is all about me."

"Are you saying - You're saying that you're taking the regimen because otherwise I - otherwise I'm pushing myself too hard, I'm-"

"Because you'll kill yourself for me, Kate."

She sucked in a slow breath, but it was true. It was true. And if... if that's what kept him alive, then she couldn't regret it. "But you'd kill yourself for me," she said finally. "You're doing it right now. Taking the regimen. Aren't you? You've always thought that taking the regimen... that it kills some part of you."

"Yes," he sighed. "I'd kill myself for you."

She noted the conditional. He _would_, not he was. She hoped for that, at least. "I'm not trying to kill us. You or me. You know the regimen doesn't alter who you are, Castle. Rick. It doesn't - oh."

She got it. She got it now. Holy fuck, how had she not seen it before?

He was so silent beside her, lost in it, still unable to see.

"It doesn't align you with him, with Black," she said. "Just because you're taking the regimen. Actually, honey, it aligns you with _me_. With me. Because you're doing it for me, to protect me, aren't you?"

"I... yeah."

"Just because he started this, it's his program, that doesn't make you his."

"Feels... feels like it does. It feels like I'm just accepting it. Going back to him. Right along with everything he planned out for me - and he didn't plan _you. _He doesn't want you for me, Kate, but I want you."

She chewed on her lip, cast her hand out to grip his arm. "You're not his. You're not on his side. The regimen is simply what you need to live. What we both need for you to live. I want _you_, and you need this, sweetheart."

His jaw pulsed.

"I know it sucks. I'm sorry it has to be like this. But we are making headway, you know. We've got a whole medical team, James is a closed system-"

He grunted, and she bit her lip to keep back a smile.

"We can make you a closed system," she offered. She didn't even know if it was true. She hoped so, for him.

"Maybe we can," he said, shrugging. "But for you-"

"If you're good, I'm good."

He turned his head to her, a long look before he was gazing at the road again. "See, Kate," he said softly. "That's your driving philosophy, and it's not always true. Your heart might be good if I'm good, but your physical well-being could be shot to hell. And since you love me, since you _love_ me, Kate, the least I can do is be sure that you really are good."

"I can take care of myself," she husked, dropping her hand from him. "It's my life, Castle. I've let you bully me, I've let you get away with a lot, but it's still... it's still my life."

"It's not. Not anymore. I'm involved in this. And James is too, you know. What happens to you matters to other people, and it always has, but you just can't seem to care. So I'm the one who does the caring. I took that on, Kate, because you're mine."

She gritted her teeth and glanced away, folding her arms over her chest. "Because you don't trust me to know," she got out. "This is my fault, I see that, because I've let you treat me like this, I've let you bully me. Something in me - something in me wants it. I need to prove myself, that's always been how I work. I need to prove myself to you-"

"The _fuck_ you-"

"But I had thought - I thought therapy had helped me - had gotten me to a place where I didn't have to prove myself. I can - I thought I could, but I have been - I have still been trying to prove myself to you. All this time, I have been so good. So good. For _you_. Because you need it. I just kept trying to live up to all your rules for me, and I'm so tired of it. I'm so worn out with keeping track of what I can and can't do, like I'm never good enough, it's never enough-"

"_No_. Stop. No. _Kate._"

She stopped, words damming up in her, and she sank her head against the window and watched the interstate go by.

He didn't say anything either, just breathing hard, and she hadn't the strength for it. She just felt bad.

She was never going to be enough.

Kate turned her body in the seat and closed her eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Close Encounters 25**

* * *

He had broken her heart.

His wife had said it, and he'd felt gutted out by the words, but he hadn't been listening, had he? Because he had kept talking. He had _broken her heart. _

He had to fix that. Or - or help it heal. Something. He couldn't let this go on. He couldn't let her think that she wasn't good enough. That was so very far from the truth. He was just trying to keep her _alive_.

They got back to the house during naptime and Beckett brushed a kiss to her father's cheek and headed straight upstairs, ignoring Castle still.

He followed her with his eyes until she was out of sight and then he saw her father studying him.

Castle opened his mouth. "I broke her heart."

Jim winced.

"I didn't mean to," he whispered.

"Okay, okay," Jim said roughly, and then Castle was being pulled into a fierce embrace, back slapping and squeezing. He dredged his lungs for a breath, took another when it seemed to work.

"I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't. Last person in the world," her dad said.

Castle stepped back, feeling stupid and awkward and too large. His shoulders hunched but Jim was moving to the living room and Castle followed, not sure what else to do. Jim sat down in the chair and so Castle sat on the edge of the couch.

Jim rubbed his hands on the arms of the chair as he sank back in the seat. "Believe me. Something I'm quite intimately familiar with - breaking her heart. So you want advice or you want to just talk?"

Neither. He wanted to go upstairs and pick up his son whom he hadn't yet hurt beyond healing. Or really, just get on his knees before her and beg.

"Okay, well, I think my advice is maybe going to make us both uncomfortable-"

"Uncomfortable?" he said, head lifting. What could-

"You know. Wooing her."

Castle grunted, eyebrow lifting, and Jim grinned back.

"You have a son. I'm assuming-"

"Oh, jeez," Castle groaned, laughing now. "All right. Well. Good advice." But they'd already tried that at the gun range. "Thanks. Uh, do my best?"

Jim shook his head, glancing down, and ah, yes, that was where it had gotten uncomfortable. "Instead of that. You want to talk about it?"

He rubbed a hand down his face. "I just don't... know what to do. I'm trying to be what she needs, what we need as a family, just keep her safe. Keep track of - she pushes too far, you know?"

"You can't be everything. No _one_ person is supposed to be everything for us, Rick."

He opened his mouth, ready to offer his defense. _But I'm super._

It didn't come out. Jim Beckett kept going instead.

"You shouldn't have to be everything," he told Castle. "That's not your job. Not as a husband, not as a partner either. There's a difference in having each other's backs, trusting each other to do the job, and being-"

"Oh, hell," Castle whispered, tilting his head back. Trusting each other to do the job. He had just called into question her entire ability to be his partner. Fucking hell, how was he this dense?

"Being her partner isn't the same as being her father," Jim said. "And I already failed at that once, Rick, so I don't think she's interested in you taking up that role."

"I'm not trying to be her father," he grunted.

"You treat her like you do James. You're her physical therapist, so you've set the schedule, haven't you? You set her bedtime and when she eats. You-"

"Oh, fuck."

"I'm not saying she doesn't need some guidelines from time to time. I'm not saying she'd be good at doing it herself, the recovery. But one thing I _have_ learned from being her father, she's got to fail on her own to learn her lessons."

"I don't want her to fail," he croaked out. "Failing is - failing was collapsing in Paris."

"That's not true, Rick, and you know it, son."

Castle flinched.

"Sorry, Kate told me not to call you that anymore. It slipped out."

He lifted his head and stared at her father. "What?"

"I won't use it. I understand John Black used it, uses it against you. I'm just trying to tell you that letting her fail isn't the same as dying. You need to see that. When you're helping James walk, you let him go, don't you? At some point you let go of his little hands even if he falls. He gets back up."

"I..." She had told her father not to call him son because of Black? "You can call me son."

Jim blinked.

"And yeah, I let go of his hands. So he can walk on his own. I get it. I see it. I'm - gonna have to learn how to do that." He ran his hands over his face and took a breath. "And you're going to call me son if you want to because that's - that's a good thing. I need to let that go too."

Jim nodded, then put his hands on his knees and pushed himself to stand. "All right. I'll let you go upstairs and figure out how to fix this."

Castle sighed. As Jim went past he patted Castle's shoulder and then touched the top of Castle's head, resting there a moment as if in benediction.

Castle held his breath until Jim got to the door, and then he heard it open and close. He got up to set the alarm and he saw his hands were shaking as he put in his code.

He saw it now, what he'd been doing. He was so afraid he was going to turn into his father that he was breaking her heart.

* * *

She felt the cold wash of air the second after the shower door clicked shut. She froze but he was already stepping inside with her.

"Kate, love, I'm so sorry-"

She stiffened as he wrapped his arms around her, the water from the shower battering her front. She tilted her face back to the water to wash the tears off before he could see. But Castle touched his mouth to her neck, his arms hard and strong and not letting her go.

She shivered as he turned them, his body blocking the water. "I'm sorry I said I didn't trust you. It's not what I meant even at the time I said it; the words came out wrong."

Kate gulped, closing her eyes to the whole thing. She had just wanted ten minutes to cry and then crawl into bed and fall asleep. "Can we just not?" she said, shrugging him off.

She managed to get out of the stall, reached for one of the towels hanging on the rack. She swiped it down her face and then squeezed the water from her hair, heard him shut off the shower and follow her out.

"You don't have to talk to me," he said. "But I need to apologize to you."

She turned her back on him and wrapped the towel around her breasts, headed for the bedroom. Before he could touch her, she crawled into bed, towel and all, and buried herself in the covers.

"I see how much you've done, Kate, how hard you've been trying. And not just trying, baby - you've succeeded. You're strong - even if it wears you out - and you're following all the awfully constricting rules despite how much it goes against your nature. I see that, I have seen it."

She pressed her face into the pillow, wished she could cover her ears with her hands and not look childish.

"All this work you're doing for _you_, and for me too, honey, and I know you have. I'm so damn proud of you for that."

Why? Why did she let this man get to her so easily? Why did she hang on every word he said even as he made her cry?

"And because of that, Kate, love, I've wanted only - I have just wanted to be good enough for you."

She sucked in a shaky breath, felt the wet spot on the pillow under her ear.

"You've given me this gift of your trust, Kate. You trust in me to know you, to guard your heart and your love, and you've trusted me with your recovery, trusted me to set the guidelines and to know what's right for you. And I'm trying to be _worthy_ of it-"

She turned onto her back to see him and he was on his hands and knees on the bed with her, hovering over her. When he saw her face, his mouth twisted.

"Kate, baby. I-"

"What are you talking about?" she choked out, pressing the back of her wrist to her eye.

He blinked at her and then laid himself down with her, arms wrapping around her waist and his chin on her shoulder. She turned her back to his chest and took in another shaky breath, and then she felt his knee pushing between hers, supporting her like he always used to, the towel bunched between them.

"You've been trusting me to know what's right for us, to be the one in the lead right now because I - I'm still hurting, it's still an ache in me, what happened in Paris - and you're being so good to me. But I missed it. You've given me your trust again and again, and I still failed you."

"Failed me?"

"You should have been back at the gun range weeks ago, long before you were off weight restrictions, but I couldn't see that. And I _should have. _You should be able to _trust_ me and I-"

"Okay," she interrupted him, pressing her hands over his. "Okay, stop. Stop."

He went silent and she sucked in another breath, another, trying to gulp down the urge to cry for reasons she didn't even understand.

"I do trust you," she said finally. She wanted him to know that. She didn't know what else though, couldn't quite untangle how it made her feel. "And I don't want to hurt you by hurting myself."

"I know you don't. I know, baby."

"It's - so hard for me to constantly think - to always hold back. To always be on top of it and never take a step over that line, but I keep trying so hard for you-"

"I know," he husked, drawing her tighter into him. "I do know that, Kate. I see it every single day. I see it in just how much you've progressed in the last month. You have given up so much, Kate. I know you have. That's you, baby. That's who you _are_, you give everything."

She sucked in a ragged breath, trying to keep from really just losing it. Stupid, it was so stupid to be upset when he loved her and she had her baby and she wasn't dying. It was so stupid when there could have been such worse problems.

"But you - you said being me was what got us into this," she said, feeling it in her throat and pressing behind her eyes. "That I don't know when to stop, I don't know my own limits, that I give too much - and I did, just to keep him, God, Castle, I'd have done anything to keep him, to keep him for you, for us, my baby-"

"Okay, okay, Kate, I know you would, and you did, and he's so beautiful and you've-"

"But that's not _enough_ for you, you want me to be _less_ and I don't know how to do that all the time. I try but it's not-"

"Please, please, don't think that I want less. I don't. I don't at all." He buried his head into her neck. "I only want you to live, Kate. I just want you to live."

She twisted in his embrace, wrapped an arm around his neck to hang on to him. "Well, I _am_, aren't I? I'm still here."

"You are. You're still here. Thank God."

"Then... then..." She trailed off, not knowing what came next, not even sure what she was saying any longer. Only that it just really sucked to think that she'd been trying so hard for him this whole damn time and it wasn't enough - but flinging herself at it was exactly what he was trying to suppress in her. She couldn't win.

"Then I love you," he whispered.

"What?"

"I love you. I love you, Kate, and I want you here, want you to live, want you to love me back, want you to be able to carry our son and live this life with me. I don't - want less of you or different or something else. I want this. I just want you."

"Oh-okay." She gulped another breath and tried to relax. "Then what - what does that mean for us?"

"It means. It means that I don't bully you, I don't put down these impossible standards that you have to keep trying to live up to. I just want you okay. And I'm trying to be worthy of that, I'm taking the regimen so that I can be that person who has your back and can partner you."

"I... don't see how that goes together. You're just - you need this, and I'm trying, but it's exhausting."

"It's not that I - I don't _own_ you, Kate."

"No," she sighed, blinking through the burn still in her eyes. "You don't own me. But you have me."

He sank down against her, his forehead falling to her chest and she wrapped her arm around his neck.

"I want you to keep living - whatever life you want to live, Kate. Even one that's crazy and flinging yourself into danger and giving every last drop you've got - even one where you'd kill yourself for me. All I can do is just try to be worth it."

She found a breath, felt his body heavy over hers, the heat of his confession at her neck. She gripped his hair and angled his head up to look at her, scooting down in the bed.

"You - you're on the regimen for me, and I see that." Castle who _hated_ the regimen was doing it for her. That was him trying just as she had been trying to hold herself back. "Because you want to - to live here with me in this life. And I didn't understand it before, but you taking this part of your old life into yourself, taking it into this life we have together, that's the same as me restraining myself, holding back, _not _doing all I want to do just because I want to."

He let out a shaky breath and she knew he was as rattled and aching as she was, that this was hard, but these things needed to be known.

"I love you too, Castle. I figured out your limits and walked within your boundaries and I fought myself on it and didn't say a word against it even though I seriously hate it, and I will _keep_ doing that. I will. Because you love me too, because you just want us both to have this life we want so badly."

"Together."

"Together," she echoed. She felt bruised all over, but she hoped it was better.

"I'm gonna be better," he whispered. "I'm gonna do better about this-"

"I don't need better," she said. "I just need you."

"You need me to not break your heart," he choked out, struggling up to look at her. She kept her arm around his neck and tried to pull him back down, but he cupped the side of her face and stroked his thumb over her bottom lip.

"Castle," she sighed.

"I'll be better. I really don't mean to. I'm-"

"Don't promise the impossible," she husked, shaking her head against the pillow. "We all fail each other."

He grinned, completely incongruent to the moment, and then dipped his head down to kiss her. Soft, sweet, a little innocent. "But isn't that my specialty? Promising the impossible."

She laughed back, like a broken thing but it was there. "All right. Okay. Maybe it is."

"You love me?"

"Course I do."

"Then we can do it."

"You're so confident."

"You make me confident."

"No, baby, I'm pretty sure you had that before we met."

He laughed then and kissed her again, harder kiss, a little teeth flashing. She lifted up and nipped him back, felt his hips fall down into her. Kate grinned and wrapped both arms around his neck, yanked him all the way down.

"You love me?" he whispered.

"You know I do."

His mouth traced hers, all around her lips, little kisses. "You love me?"

"Always. Always love you. Even when it hurts us both."

"I love you," he promised. "I love you."

* * *

Kate woke first, heavy from sleep, still feeling raw in places. Castle was draped at her back, and when she slowly turned her head, he was passed out himself. She softly touched his face, worried for him, but at least he was asleep. He hadn't been sleeping much; he needed this.

She stroked his cheek and leaned in across the pillow to kiss his chin. When he still didn't stir, she couldn't help the smile that broke across her lips.

They'd had a pretty big fight, and it had hurt, but they were going to be okay. Took time to figure things out, having a baby wasn't easy, and then all the added crap on top of it.

Speaking of her baby. About time for his nap to be over or else he wouldn't go down later tonight.

Kate lifted her husband's arm, so carefully, and slid across the mattress, got her feet to the floor. Castle grunted and rolled into her pillow, gathered it up with a long sigh. She bit her bottom lip and then tiptoed out of their bedroom.

She found Sasha in the hall, leaned down to pat her on the back, scratch her behind the ears. "Hey," she whispered. "Wanna go wake our little wolf?"

Sasha bounded ahead of her down the hallway, toenails clacking on the floor and announcing their presence. When she stepped through the doorway, Sasha was at the crib, tail wagging, her nose pushing down the bumpers and licking James through the bars.

Kate laughed and came to stand over the dog, looking down at the baby as he got loved on by the dog. James had his hand around Sasha's teeth, and Kate froze for an instant, but the dog was only licking, so careful with the baby, snuffling into James's little palm.

"Oh, good, sweet Sasha. Hey there, James. You ready to get up?"

James waved his hand her direction, releasing Sasha's mouth, his eyes staring up at his mommy.

Kate bent down and lifted her son from the crib, met him nose to nose, grinning at his sleepy, slow smile. "Mommy is so glad to be off restrictions, little wolf."

James reached down for her, wanting to be against her chest and not held in the air by his show-off mom. Kate cuddled him, hand at the back of his head as she squeezed tight enough to make him grunt.

"I know, I know," she whispered. "Don't overdo it. You ready to get up? Maybe we can wake Daddy-"

"Too late."

Kate turned around and found Castle standing in the doorway, hair spiky and boxers wrinkled from sleep or maybe that half-shower he'd had stepping in with her. He had apparently crawled right out of bed to come find them.

"Darn, there go all our evil plans," Kate chuckled. She carried her son to his daddy and leaned in, kissed that scraping scruff of Castle's chin. "Morning, love."

"Afternoon, you mean. You slept?"

"Mm-hm. You dream?"

"Nope. And I just rolled over on top of you, didn't I?" He grinned and reached out for James, but she held him back, kept him close.

With Castle's guilt and her previous restrictions, she hadn't felt right keeping the kid all to herself. But now she pushed past her husband and out to the hallway, ignoring the shake in her muscles as she carried her son towards the stairs. Gun range, the sex, yeah, that had probably all taken it out of her.

"You coming?" she called.

"I already did."

She snorted, turning around as she got to the top of the stairs, holding James close. "You think you're so funny."

"Only 'cause you do. You're laughing right now. That little roll of your eyes is the same as one of James's belly laughs."

"Right," she drawled. "Come on. Let's go. Time for bananas. Right, Jay? I know you're all snuggly right now, but you're gonna be hungry."

Castle followed with a little snort of his own. "You're up and at'em."

"Well, you know. Got a lot done today," she said, celebrating a little, rocking James back and forth in her arms. "We're on our way."

"Fighting with me isn't part of the recovery process," Castle complained.

She made a face at him. "Shut up."

"No," he laughed, following her down the stairs. "Really, it probably should be. Week five, pencil in a fight, get all our issues off our chests. Restart."

"Yeah, well-" She put her foot wrong on the fourth step and stuttered, her heart rate jacking up a little. "Oof, sorry, wolf."

But James wanted nothing more than sleep, warm and cozy, and he buried his face in her neck and blew his lips out against her. She laughed, tickled by it, and she was knocked off balance even as she tried to find the next step. Her hip hit the railing and her knee buckled in just that instant, and she knew.

"Cas-" she gasped, torquing towards him.

She knew she was going down.

He reached for her, but she dumped James against his chest even as her body pitched backwards in response. She felt the sick sensation of nothingness, heard the clatter of panic in her rib cage and movement on the stairs, and then felt the violence of his fingers wrapping around her wrist.

She jerked in mid-fall, swung on the pendulum of his grip, crashed hard into his shins, her own knees hitting the step.

"Kate," he croaked.

"I'm okay," she gasped. "I'm okay. Let me sit."

He was easing them both down, James definitely awake after that rude hand-off, and she put both palms to the step and curled slowly inward, feeling it. Bruised and shaken, and here was Castle crouched with her nearly four steps back.

How in the hell he'd managed to catch her and James both, she had no idea.

"Thank God for you," she got out. Her ribs, fuck. Her hip. Knees. Elbows. And her arm felt wrenched. She lifted her head and his eyes were shining, but so were hers. She probably might cry. "Just startled. I didn't - wasn't expecting that."

"God."

He wrapped his arm around James and kept him down against his chest, but she knew he wanted to reach for her instead. She couldn't stand it if he touched her - it hurt that much. She had bit her lip when she'd been jarred out of the fall by his grip. He was a lot damn stronger than he knew, she thought.

He'd really feel bad if he knew. She wouldn't tell him her whole shoulder was on fire. But she needed some fucking ice. Holy shit.

"Kate?"

"Help me up?" she asked. She wanted to struggle up on her own power, but asking made him soft and sweet, and she could really use some of that instead of guilt. She was just really tired of guilt and guilty feelings and this pervasive sadness from him. "Today has really been a shitty day."

Castle slid closer, bracketed her body with his feet planted wide, and then he slid his arm in slowly around her ribs and drew her up with him. James was close like this, monkeying around as he babbled to himself, his head butting in against them. Clearly, he enjoyed having them both as his jungle gym.

But Castle was the one holding him, the one keeping it together right now. She felt about as fragile as paper.

"You steady?" Castle murmured at her ear. "Want me to let go?"

"Hang on a second." She just needed to catch her breath and push past the ache in her shoulder. Same shoulder, same arm as their very first case - the Chinese spy - where he'd flung her over his own body and she'd attacked their guy. And in Russia - same arm he'd had to carry her with when she'd been so unconscious she couldn't stay on his back.

She needed to switch arms. Or Castle did. Reach for the other side. Shit, it hurt.

"Bruised, honey?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "Um. And my shoulder hurts."

"You hit it against the railing."

She had? She only remembered that moment of vital terror at the fall backwards, all she could put together. "Might ice it. And it's my shooting arm, fuck. No wonder it hurts so much."

"Recoil," he sighed. "And I grabbed you. Not sorry for that though. Was gonna be a vicious fall down the stairs."

Might have killed her. Straight back because she'd turned to shove James in his arms and pushed herself right over in the process. Might well have snapped her neck.

"Fuck," she breathed out again, her face against his chest. "I'm feeling way less ambitious about my recovery right now."

Castle actually chuckled, though it didn't sound quite right. He was trying just as much as she was letting herself _not_ try.

"You need - or want? - me to carry you down, love?"

Her knee had given way with muscle exhaustion at the exact second that her balance had faltered. She didn't trust it, or well, she knew herself well enough to trust that she was close to doing major damage. "PT today, right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I'll just... sink down and sit right here while you take James and put him in his high chair. Then come back and spot me. I don't need to be carried, just watched."

He nodded, cupping the back of her neck and kissing her jaw. "Thank you. I'll be right back."

He eased her down again and she leaned all the way back against the slant of the stairs, closed her eyes.

Fuck, that could have been really bad.

* * *

Castle watched her as she sat cross-legged on the floor. Her back was against the couch, and it was a familiar post-nap position, but there was a feeling of brittle and restless tension about it after everything that had happened today.

He'd snagged her by the wrist a half-second before she'd been about to go right down. Her shove on his chest with the baby had done it, been the tipping point, and he'd been reaching for her elbow to simply steady her. That was all, just steady her.

Either she had panicked and shoved James at him, afraid he'd go down with her, or she had felt herself falling for real - not just off-balanced by her brush against the railing. He'd been watching it all, the whole time, but it had been that last-ditch effort to thrust James to safety that had tipped her over the edge.

God, he had felt her elbow slide right through his fingers even as he grabbed for her, managed only to catch her forearm at the last possible moment. Still played in his head, that split second.

He still didn't remember actually making the decision to catch her; it had been that fast. His instincts were always to her, of course, but the regimen - hell. Fucking hell, he was not stopping the regimen. Regular doses for sure. Rest of his life. It was only the regimen that had saved her from falling.

James crawled onto her thigh and pulled himself up to stand, a quiet thing as usual. Castle had recently noticed that when James talked, it was mostly when he was one on one with them, face to face, as if he was just too interested in the world and what was going on to put his own voice into the mix. He wanted to absorb it all; he liked to watch _them_ have a conversation.

But of course, he and Kate were kind of talked out right now. That fight on the way to and from the gun range had cleared the air, but there was still so much going on.

James's fist in Kate's shirt released and then he climbed up her shoulder to the couch where Castle was. Kate huffed, laughing, and put a hand to his bottom to help boost him up. Castle set aside his tablet, locking the screen - he'd learned his lesson on that one after James had somehow sent out a nonsense message to Mason that just so happened to have enough coded key strings in it that Mason sent them a panicky reply back not two minutes later.

This was just stupid email tasks, but he'd rather play with the boy than have Kate try to move much. She was still icing her shoulder every couple hours.

So Castle took James into his lap and dragged the kid across his thigh to sit, wrapping his arms around him and kissing the top of his head. But James didn't want to sit, he wanted to climb. He pulled himself up by Castle's shirt and stepped onto Castle's thigh, only to fall right back down again, giggling.

"Kid, you're as relentless as your mom," he muttered, hoisting James back to standing again.

James wriggled out of his father's grip and down to the couch cushion where he was momentarily distracted by a blue bear teething ring. Melted and warm, and when James put it in his mouth, he grimaced and spit it back out theatrically.

Kate laughed and turned to look at them. "Will you stick that one in the freezer again? I put the race car in the fridge for him. And my ice has melted too." She held up her ice pack.

"You feeling better?"

She gave a little nod. "But another application might be good. Since I have PT tonight."

"Yeah," he said, tucking it under his arm. And then he took a leap of faith and handed her his tablet. "Will you look at this before PT? I need fresh eyes."

Her whole face lit up.

Shit. It made him feel wonderful and awful at the same time; he knew she'd been reining it in, holding back for weeks now, thirty-nine days of tamping down her natural instincts. And he offered a fucking tiny piece of the one thing that always made her feel so in-control and strong, and she took it like gold.

What harm was there in letting her see work emails? He should have assigned her tasks weeks ago. She could task in _bed_. On the couch. She didn't have to be one hundred percent to do tasks.

"Yeah," she said, smiling up at him. Shy. That was either learned from James or James had gotten it from her, and holy fuck, it was ripping out his guts. He had just broken her heart and now she was looking up at him like it had never happened.

Or that this was all the better for having happened.

Castle framed that smile in his hands and kissed her mouth, smudging it for good. When he pulled back she was all blurred lips and green eyes.

"Uck!" James rejoiced from the couch.

"Yeah, my sentiments exactly," Kate whispered. "_Fuck_. That's good."

Castle laughed and kissed her again, then stood up to get a teething ring and a fresh ice pack. At the kitchen threshold he paused. "Hey, Kate?"

"Mm?"

"I know you're feeling better. But. Just don't try to climb over the baby gates, will you?" AKA, _no stairs, Kate_.

"Aye-aye, Captain."

That was a little more smart-alecky than he'd like, but he'd take it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Close Encounters 25**

* * *

It was a bad week. She was lethargic and achey; she had physical therapy sessions with Castle while her father took care of James, and even simple stretches made her wrung out. He would whisper encouragement in her ear that she knew had to go against his instincts, _come on, Kate, you can do it; one more_. But he kept on.

So she did too.

Logan came by after a bad session on Thursday, which happened to be James's eight months birthday, the seventeenth of June. It was already _summer_, and she felt as trapped and bleak as a winter afternoon.

"Hey, Kate," Logan called to her from the entry. He had James hanging on his knees as the boy gave his own welcome, pulling to be lifted up. "How ya feeling, sexy?"

"You punk," she said back. She was on the couch with Sasha, refusing to go upstairs and crawl into bed even though she wanted to. "I feel like crap. Castle call you?"

"Yeah," Logan said. He was following her father to the living room, swinging James into his arms. He pretended to eat James's fingers and the boy pealed with laughter, making Kate smile.

"I've been reading about the detox program at UCLA," she told him. "Castle found it."

"Yeah, that journal article has been making the rounds of the team," Logan answered. He dropped James into her lap and she couldn't even catch him; her arms were like jello. James, smart kid, had gotten a grip of Sasha's fur to stabilize himself and was dragging his little body to the couch cushion.

"Sorry," she sighed. "I feel like I can barely lift my arms. And Sasha thinks something is wrong. She's been plastered to my side."

"Yeah, that study - they used dogs to detect minor imbalances." Logan was settling down on the coffee table in front of her, opening up his kit.

James let out a screech and turned back to her. "Mama!"

She laughed, startled by that distinct calling of her name. She leaned forward and cupped his cheeks. "I'm fine. Mommy's fine. Logan is our friend, remember?"

"Mum-mum-mum," he mumbled, trying to crawl back into her lap.

Her father helped James back up when it was clear Kate didn't have the strength for it. And then the thunder of heavy feet on the stairs told them all that Castle was coming down. When he cleared the staircase and came through the foyer, James called out for him.

"Dadada!"

They all chuckled and Castle looked all right, actually; he was smiling and he picked James up from Kate's lap. "Hey, wolf. Let me hold you while Mama gets blood drawn."

James tried to swing out from Castle's grip, and Kate sat up, terrified at how quickly James lunged, feeling the flutter in her heart. But Castle didn't let go and James was giggling like a fool with his head thrown back, dark hair standing up as he hung upside down.

"Fast jab," Logan warned.

She barely felt the needle, only noticed because James stopped giggling, grew somber as he stared at her. "James. Hey, Jay," she called to him. "Everything's fine. Want to sit close to me? Castle, bring him over here."

Her husband eased onto the couch beside her, trying not to jostle Logan, and she made a fist to keep the blood pumping. Her blood pressure was low, she knew, had been all week, and they'd all been talking about her calcium levels: calcium was necessary to maintain a regular heartbeat.

But she'd been off restrictions for two weeks, and she was hoping it was just a really awful lack of endurance. She was going to the gun range and doing PT and sleeping all the time, and maybe it was just catching up to her.

James was calm now that he was beside her, but he stretched out of Castle's arms to crawl into her lap. Castle tried to hold him, but Kate used her free arm to circle James's body.

"You have to sit very quietly with me," she warned him. James hunched his shoulders and went still. She chuckled, glancing to Castle, and he looked pretty damn proud. They'd been having conversations about being 'good' to Mommy, she knew.

"Good job, wolf," Castle murmured. Kate curled her arm up and rested the top of her chin on James's head, his chin tucked into her elbow. He liked that, and his hands came to her arm; she got a slobbery, open-mouthed kiss for it too.

"Oh, thank you, Jay. Just what I wanted."

"All right, first vial is done," Logan announced. "Now, hold still, Mommy. Getting the second."

She braced James for the switch-off. He was very good, and so still, and then when Logan had it, James lifted his hands from her arm and clapped.

They all laughed, even her father, who hadn't found much of this humorous.

She'd felt like shit all week, but it was worth this moment. This was pretty special.

She leaned in carefully and kissed James's cheek. "Love you, wolf boy."

* * *

He brought the baby to the couch when James finally nodded off, sank slowly to the cushions. Kate was curled in the corner, asleep as well, and when Castle had adjusted himself and the boy, he laid his hand on her calf, let out a long breath.

Bad week. Bad few weeks.

He tilted his head back against the top of the couch and mindlessly stared up at the ceiling. Nap time was beginning to be one of his favorite parts of the day. Not that he didn't love his kid awake, but Kate was more likely to let it go and sleep when James was asleep.

Everyone could sleep.

Castle shifted deeper into the cushions and cradled his son with one hand, let his eyes finally close. Kate's shoulder was still not quite right, and Castle had actually ordered at-home ultrasound therapy under the guise that it was for her healing 'gunshot wound.' He really wanted it to use on her shoulder, but it would help sell their cover to the CIA top brass too.

Rough week. He was glad it was the weekend. Not that it meant much when they were still on suspension, but it seemed like it would be easier now. Friday afternoon, the baby asleep, Kate resting-

"Hey."

He startled, eyes opening, hand pressing into James. Kate was lifting her head and shifting towards him, crawling down the couch only to drop her cheek against his thigh.

He laid his free hand on her shoulder. "Hey."

"I'm tired."

"I bet." He laughed. "Me too."

She took a breath in and he realized how it sounded, the guy on the regimen.

"Just - weary at heart, Kate. Doesn't make me feel good, fighting with you. Even worse when you feel bad too."

"Yeah," she husked. "Knew what you meant."

He let out a breath. At least he wouldn't have to guard his words around her. That would suck. They had the kind of relationship where he'd always been able to shoot off at the mouth, and even when it annoyed the crap out of her, she could take it for what it was.

Well, except when he broke her heart. He didn't want to do that again. He just had this tendency to start talking, to talk his way into or out of anything, and combine that with this urge to spill his guts before her, and he kept saying really stupid shit.

"You sound sad," she said from his thigh.

"Yeah." And _that _had come out thoughtlessly too. "You know what King says. Gets worse before it gets better."

"Yeah," she offered. Her fingers dug in under his knee like she was holding on to him. "Can it be better already?"

He smiled, rubbed his palm up and down Kate's arm like he was doing to James's back, realized he was doing it a second too late. Ah, well. Felt good. Like he could actually soothe her as he did the baby.

"Feels good," she murmured.

He laughed at that, and he drew a knee up, tapped her shoulder. "Come on then. Up, up, Kate. Crawl up here with me. Jay's out for a while."

She lifted her head and he pushed his feet to the end of the couch, getting comfortable, rearranging the baby. James whimpered in his sleep and switched cheeks, mouth puckering as he settled again, and Castle brushed a kiss to the top of his head. Kate watched them a moment and then crawled up to lay down at his side, her leg tangled with his so that her toes curled at his ankle, tucked into the top of his low sock.

He drew his free arm around her shoulders and hugged her against him, kissing the top of her head now too. She lifted her chin and met his mouth, a brief glance of lips and a soft exhale as she finally loosened up. Her head came back to his chest and she pressed her palm against his shirt, smoothing it down in front of her face. She wasn't closing her eyes though, and he wondered if she wanted to talk.

He traced a pattern on her shoulder with his fingers, traced the same pattern over James's back, doing what he could, mindless with the sense of them at his skin and over his body. He closed his own eyes, waiting on her if she wanted to, content even in the midst of some pretty terrible days lately.

She was alive. All of this was bonus, extra. He'd begged for her life and gotten it back and now every second she was here, even if they were fighting, even if she frustrated him beyond all endurance, even if he was ready to throttle her, it felt like a gift he could never be worthy of, a gift he'd been given anyway.

"I was looking for James's elephant," Kate said suddenly into their silence. Her voice was slow, drowsy almost, and he didn't stop trailing his fingers around and around the bare skin of her arm.

"You found it," he said finally. "Cause he's got it tucked under him."

"Yeah," she whispered. "But - you know it used to be mine."

"What. The elephant?"

"You gave it to me for my birthday," she murmured.

He smiled. "Yeah, I did. Funny, that ended up being your last birthday without him."

"Oh," she said, sounding surprised. "It was. Weird."

"Prophetic of me," he said back, curling his fingers under the material of her tank top and tucking them under her bra.

"James does that," she sighed.

"James does - oh this?" He ran his fingers under the strap, readjusting it, and she wriggled her shoulder, nodding against his chest. He let it pop softly back into place, smoothed his hand out over her upper arm. "Sorry."

"No, I like it." She had her palm pressed to his chest and she drew a finger in, began tracing what he knew were the unseen lines of the wolf tattoo. "You distracted me. The elephant."

"Oh. Right. His elephant that used to be yours. He's appropriated it, you know. I'm not sure you want it back either. The fur has gotten patchy - it's corduroy anyway, so that was bound to-"

Suddenly her fingers were over his lips, lightly, tasting of salt and faintly of peanut butter. He went silent and he felt her smiling at his chest. Her fingers traced the lines of his mouth and settled in the cleft of his chin and he was practically holding his breath, waiting for her.

"When I went looking," she started again, "I found it in James's closet."

"The panic room," he laughed softly. He had finished the last of the modifications about two months before James had been born, so that they could still use the closet aspect of the space. He had made the panic room door open inward with the collapse of the shelves, but it required a twist of the wrist against a knob at hip height. He'd wanted James to be able to get to it, if the boy needed it - or if he wanted a private space to hide out when he was old enough to be responsible about it.

"I guess you dumped everything in the closet after... after the jungle."

"What?" he asked, not sure what she was talking about now.

"The timeline I made in that - closet. Before. Because there were pieces left. This was - right after - long before James was born. When we were allowed back in our own home, I went looking for the elephant because I wanted it for our baby."

"Oh," he said, deflating so suddenly that Kate wrapped her hand behind his neck and lifted up. He gave her a weak smile and she sighed, leaning in to dust a kiss at his cheek.

"I love you."

That did it, wow. Just like that, it filled him up again, made him feel like he could face it. Whatever it was. That damn timeline she had made of his life so she could ferret out the last of the regimen.

"The elephant was on the bottom shelf and so were a few of the notes I'd made. Photocopies of the stories you'd written out for me. I miss those, Castle. I miss your journals that King made us do. I miss the words you find to explain our life and our - love - and I wish-"

"Okay," he said, gripping the back of her shirt in his fist. "Okay. I can do that. Easy. That's so easy, Kate. I'll write you every day for the rest of our lives if you want to read it."

Her smile was so achingly shy, and she buried her face against his chest before popping back up again. "Yeah?"

"Course."

She grinned a little wider and pushed with her toes against his ankle, came up enough to kiss him. "Yeah?"

"Of course. Anything. Writing about how much I love you-"

"And stories," she whispered. "The stories you have - yours. I want to know. Because I love you, not because I want to - investigate you. I want to know what you were like when you were James's age, what you wanted to do, how it was at West Point-"

He chuckled. "Okay. All right. But - I give you mine if you do the same."

"Do I have to write it?"

He tilted his head. "No. You can just... talk to me."

"Yeah," she smiled. "Yeah, I can do that. I can talk to you." She kissed him again, softer this time, her fingers scratching in his hair before she laid back down at his side. "I can talk."

She drew her hand back down his chest and suddenly at his waist, up under his shirt so that his breath caught. She pressed her hand to the bare skin at his tattoo and he felt it all over, electric and raw, like she had hold of his lungs.

"Kate," he choked out.

She was relentless, he knew that, but he hadn't expected-

Oh, she had fallen asleep.

Holy hell, she had fallen asleep.

* * *

Kate teased his lips with the spoon and James turned his head, pressing his cheek to the back of the highchair.

"Come on, wolf. I know you're hungry," she murmured. She propped an elbow on the tray of the highchair, even knowing as she did it that she was hovering too close.

James grinned shyly from the side of his mouth, peeking at her with one eye, still keeping his face turned away from the spoon.

She smiled back at him, ducking her head. "Hey, little wolf. You wanna just try it? Because you love me?"

"Mama!" he said, a little triumphant about it. But it opened up his mouth and she shoved the spoonful of baby carrots inside.

James blanched.

"Oh, no," she warned him. "Don't you dare."

He pressed his hand to his mouth like he couldn't understand what had just happened, fingers coming away with orange slime.

"No, baby, swallow it. You love your bananas and the rice cereal and even the sweet potatoes which smell like poop. Come on. Carrots. Carrots are-"

Oh, shit.

James shoved his hand out at her, smeared with carrots, and caught a fistful of her hair. Kate winced, but she knew better than to pull back.

"Okay. I get it. Not a fan of carrots."

"Mama." James grunted and tugged on her hair. "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy-"

"That's really lovely, you know I love hearing you call my name, but ouch, baby - gross. This is really gross. I have carrots-"

"James." Castle came in through the dining room, strolling in like a superstar, pointing a finger at his son. "Let her go."

James released her hair like magic; he absolutely couldn't have been following his father's orders, there was no way, he was just responding to Castle's tone of voice or excited to see him or-

"Dada-dadee!"

Kate rolled her eyes and sat back, and Castle came in smelling like sweat and summer and sunshine, even this late in the day.

"Hey, wolf. Is Mommy feeding you gross, nasty food?"

"Carrots."

"Daddy," James cried, lifting both hands to his father.

Castle leaned over as if to kiss him, hesitated with his lips inches from James's carrot-y face. "Huh. Well. Eat first. Eat your dinner, James. Aren't you hungry? You napped late."

"Hungry like the wolf," Kate muttered.

"What?"

She sighed. "Never mind. I'll educate you later." She leaned forward and scraped carrot off of James's cheeks and then sneaked the spoonful into his mouth. James made a face and pressed his fists into his mouth, but Castle caught both hands, tugged them away.

James was so surprised he didn't even resist, simply tilted his head back and stared up at his daddy.

"No more of that. Eat your dinner."

And, damn it all, if it didn't work. James dropped his hands back to the tray of the high chair and opened his mouth like a good little baby bird. Kate shoveled the last of the carrots inside, going fast, because at any second James was going to decide that he didn't like carrots at all, and where were his sweet potatoes, why was she playing this cruel trick on him?

When it was all gone, Kate couldn't help but applauding, so excited by such a small task. "Yay, James! Look. All gone! You did it."

Castle was laughing at her, moving around the kitchen now to make their own dinner, but she ignored him.

"You did so good. Yeah, you did. Wasn't it good after all? I'm not even feeding you mashed peas, which really should count for something here. Daddy wants to give you the peas every time-"

"Because we have like forty jars that I _made_ for him. I made his damn baby food - I didn't even buy it already made. Seriously, Beckett."

She smirked, lifted her eyebrows as James. "See," she stage whispered. "You should be grateful it's me and not him. Those peas smell nasty."

"Teeeee," James crowed, arching his back in the high chair. "Mommy."

"I'm here. Hang on. Let me clean us both off. You got carrots in my hair and I wanna get those out."

But Castle was already approaching with a wet cloth and she took it, lifting her head to him, and he leaned in, kissed her softly. And then his lips traced her jaw and his tongue licked her skin. "Mm, don't know what's wrong with him. You taste amazing."

She laughed, shoving his face away, wrapping the dishcloth around her hair to get the carrots out. "Shut up."

But Castle was just grinning back at her, his eyes so deeply happy that they were nearly eclipsed by his smile. It was infectious, and she found herself beaming back at him, her chest filled up with it and her hands barely moving, staring into his eyes.

He came back and kissed her again, fingers cupping her chin and sliding back to cradle her neck, and she really just - she really just wanted to keep doing this.

"Can he eat bananas by himself?" Castle murmured. "He barely got any carrot down his throat anyway. Bananas."

"He'll mush them in his hair if we don't watch him."

Castle's fingers tripped down her collarbone and dipped her shirt. "Worth it? I'll do bath."

She caught her breath, snaked her arm around the back of his neck. "Worth it."

* * *

Castle woke sharply, aware and primed, blood thundering.

He thought, at first, it was just another nightmare. But Kate was standing over him, and he registered her hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

Her eyes were as dark as the night, but her face was like the moon, sick and waxing.

"Kate?" he rasped.

"I got - there's an email," she husked, turning away.

He stared after her, confused, bewildered by the early hour. It was... one in the morning? shit. And now she was walking away from him. He stumbled out of bed, glanced to the baby monitor but James was peaceful, the white noise of his breaths in dreams. He quickly moved to catch up with her.

"Kate?"

She took his hand and gripped him tightly, led him to the single room just off the hallway. His office.

"Kate?"

"I wasn't tired," she said, turning her head to look at him.

"Oh-kay." Was she sleep-walking? He'd never seen her look so strangely.

"I wasn't tired and so I just, I thought - I thought I'd do some work. Catch up. I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing, babe?" Her sleep had been erratic lately, more like _usual_ actually, more like the Beckett he remembered. They had talked about it - the team, that was - they thought it was a good sign even if it meant she was tired during the day when the exhaustion hit her and her endurance ran out.

"I opened my email," she said. "And there was this." Kate gestured to the laptop screen and stepped back.

"We're suspended you know," he reminded her, trying to joke. She'd woken him at one for-

Oh, fuck.

It was from his father.

"God damn it," he rasped, sinking down into the office chair. He stared at the email, none of the words resolving, just staring.

He felt Kate come to his shoulder, her hip against the back of the office chair. He slid his arm out and twined it between her thighs, gripping her leg against him.

The words began to coalesce. _Katherine_-

Just that and his stomach churned, just calling her by name.

_I see you are making good progress, though you and my son have been suspended. Quite clever a story. I suppose Richard thought of that one. Lying to a superior officer is a grave offense, you know. One I have quite a lot of practice at, should you need pointers on skirting the bureaucracy. Ironic, is it not? That the two of you have set up the very thing I strove so long and so hard to build. The program is alive and well in us, is it not? _

"I fucking hate him," Castle growled. He _knew_ that Kate wasn't happy about this set-up, that it bothered her conscience to be lying to their co-workers who were putting their lives on the line for them.

_But Kate, this email is to warn you - be vigilant about illnesses. It would perhaps behoove you to stay in as much as possible until your immune system is no longer on high alert._

Fuck. High alert? There'd been no indication of an elevated immune response. He had - he had taken her _outside_, running, the park, grocery store. What the-

"Don't," she choked out. "Don't get stuck on what he says. We'll drive ourselves crazy second-guessing."

He nodded, but it was too late. He was second-guessing. He'd have to call Logan and Boyd and tell them about this.

_In case you were worried, Diane Jolin was released from the American hospital in Paris. She was in an acute care facility for rehab - and apparently for some kind of terrible illness which infected her - but she has since disappeared._

"Holy shit," Castle croaked. "What happened to her?"

"I don't know. I don't-" Kate trembled beside him, sank down onto the arm of the office chair, her fingers gripping the back of his neck. "Black could be lying through his teeth. But..."

But.

_In time, I will send someone your way. Don't forget: be vigilant._

"What the fuck does that even mean?" He scanned the rest of his father's email - more shit, more guilt-trips, more conniving and manipulating as the man tried to maintain his hold.

And sent, of course, to Beckett's work email while she was suspended. Black _knew_ that suspended agents' files and computer trails were open for security reviews while they were gone. He knew that. He was looking to stir up trouble.

"You gotta delete this."

"I did," she rasped. "It came again."

"What?" He swiveled in the chair to look at her, heart pounding. "What do you mean-"

"I deleted it and it popped back up again. Like I hadn't read it. I don't know what's going on."

"Oh, God."

"We - should call Ryan. Or Mitchell? Would Mitch know-"

"No. He's got no clue. Ryan is - already involved in this. So him. He'll have to..." Castle trailed off, thinking about Jenny and Sarah Grace, thinking about how much Ryan stood to lose. "Hell. We need to figure this out on our own, Kate. We can't keep dragging people into the darkness with us."

She gave a noise that sounded like grief and Castle gripped her thigh, tried to struggle through this.

"We could-"

"No, we have to call Ryan," she whispered. "Castle, I've done all the programs, all the wipes and shredders and email rewrite programs we _have_ and some the CIA isn't supposed to have as well, and it doesn't do any good. It just shows up again."

"Fuck."

"I don't want Ryan involved either, but if there's anything I've learned these last few years - we have _got_ to let people help us. I have to let people help me. I can't fight alone. I'll never make it alone. We won't make it."

"Yeah," he gruffed. He felt sick, but they needed Ryan's expertise. He'd have to just - ask for help. "Yeah, I'll call him."

"Not tonight."

"Yes, tonight. This can't get sucked up by the computer searches. It can't. When's it dated?"

"Two days ago," she murmured. "It's already too late. So let Ryan sleep. We'll have him look at it tomorrow."

Hell. Fucking hell. His damn father.


	12. Chapter 12

**Close Encounters 25**

* * *

Castle saw the look James gave him as he carried the boy into the panic room, but he was ignoring it.

Kate, apparently, was not. "Get used to it, kid."

"Just until the threat level goes back down," he muttered.

He thought she ought to be more understanding; after that email, he couldn't imagine she wasn't freaking out a little too. To have a perimeter alarm go off on top of that last email?

He stuck his head out of the door and called for the dog, trying to cajole her inside with them. "Come on, Sasha, come here. Come."

The last command did the trick, and she slunk inside.

"Can we at least not close the door?" Kate asked, sinking to the narrow bed. He had already replaced the cot, thinking ahead, but she didn't seem too grateful for the mattress.

"Yeah, door can stay open." He shifted James to his other side and reached the security feeds, turned the monitors on. He couldn't believe he'd left so many of them off. He'd gotten complacent, what with Mitchell's crew right outside; he'd stopped focusing on outside security, so hung up on Kate.

"Check in with Mitch," Kate ordered.

He shot her a glance. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"Verbal check in," she muttered, rolling her eyes and flopping back on the bed. She wasn't happy with him. She'd been in the middle of her yoga dvd, plus he had remembered to bring the nasty green concoction the juicer had made. (But it was Logan and Carrie's own collaboration, and she was supposed to drink it to build up her muscle, so she could at least stop huffing at him.)

"Here," he said, nudging the drink towards her on the low desk. "Before James kicks it over and it ruins the equipment."

She wrinkled her nose but sat up and came for the vegetable and fruit smoothie. It had enhancements and supplements in it as well, though nothing regimen related. They were hoping to balance out her systems without using any of Black's elements, hoping she'd become her own close system. As she should be, as any normal person not on the regimen should be able to maintain his or her own systems.

Boyd kept warning them that it might be impossible, now that her body had been stripped by that advanced chelation treatment.

Still had to try. He wasn't giving up on that.

Kate started chugging, making a nasty face around it, and James chuckled his old man chuckle, watching her. She made an even more exaggerated face, and James laughed harder, leaning into his chest.

At least they were laughing. He thumbed the mic button, putting out two fast dashes to Mitchell, letting him know they were in a safe position. It wasn't a high threat level, but it was an unknown breach of the security perimeter directly around their home.

He didn't like that. But as Kate had said, could be just a raccoon. They were clever bastards and liked messing with the equipment.

Kate made a noise and choked down the rest of the juice smoothie, then slammed the cup down on the desk. James giggled and leaned out for his mother, so Castle let him go, watching carefully as Kate took him. Her arms trembled, but she was heading for the bed anyway.

"Castle?" came Mitch's voice.

He thumbed open the channel and sat down at the desk before the monitors. "Here. You get a read on the situation?"

"There's nothing now. Whatever or whoever it was - they saw the perimeter alarm and left."

"Saw?"

"Definitely been tampered with. But Kate's right - could be just a raccoon."

"And now?"

"Gone. We'll work at hiding these better. But I'd say _something_ was interested in you guys. Just don't know if it was man or animal."

Or both. "Thanks, Mitch. We clear?"

"All clear."

He turned his head over his shoulder to repeat the message, but she was standing right there. He softened his voice, reached out for her. "All clear, babe."

Kate shifted into him, James in her arms, and he saw the worry had flattened out her eyes. He hadn't realized it'd been there until it was gone, and he was grateful at least for that. She didn't think he was crazy in his paranoia.

In fact, she leaned in and lightly kissed his cheek. "Thanks."

"Thanks? And all I get is a kiss on the cheek?"

She smiled a little, looked grateful for the humor too. "I just downed the most nasty, foul-tasting drink known to man. You want to share?"

"Oh, ew, no." He tilted his head back and mimed ducking away from her, and now she was laughing. "Keep those green smoothie lips off me."

James chortled too, getting in on it, and Castle eased back into her circumference, kissing her between the eyes. Avoiding her mouth, he trailed down the side of her face to that spot under her jaw.

Her knees dipped and he caught her and the baby both, chuckling.

"All right, all right," she breathed. "Proved your point. Take him. We're going back upstairs now."

* * *

Ryan called while she was standing in the kitchen trying to figure out how long a baked potato was supposed to actually bake. She'd been googling it on her phone, feeling both stupid for not knowing and also perversely proud that she was thirty-five and only now sucked down into things like cook times and ingredients.

Her mother would have rolled her eyes at Kate for it.

They'd have laughed at Kate's ornery personality, her penchant for playing devil's advocate, her stubborn refusal to submit to stereotypes. In the nineties, when that was a thing, Kate had been cognizant enough of her womanhood to now feel proud of transcending the 90s woman, to be more than one version of the typical mother_ or_ the typical feminist.

An enlightened woman ought to know how to bake a potato, she could hear her mother scolding.

True. She should.

But her phone rang in the middle of googling baked potato. It made her jump and drop the damn thing, and of course James raced over - scooting for speed - to grab it. He put it in his mouth before she could snatch it away, and thank God the screen hadn't cracked. She squatted down to grab it.

"No," she insisted, answering the phone as she held James off. She was hunched on the floor with him, phone pressed to her ear with her shoulder, hands filled with dream-deferred boy.

"No?"

"Oh, sorry. Hey, Ryan. You know - the kid."

"I do know. Sarah Grace is maybe not quite as active as yours though."

"He's - actually," she murmured, softening as James crawled into her lap. "He's not bad at all. He picks his battles. We do too, don't we, wolf?"

"Mama."

She kissed his temple and set him on his feet, standing herself. He trailed after her into the living room, crawling nearly on her heels, and let out a shriek when he saw Sasha, made a beeline for her.

"Not bad at all, huh?" Ryan laughed. He'd heard the shriek, no doubt.

"Yeah, he's got his own mind, but he goes with the flow. Which is a good trait to have with us."

"No kidding. Hey, I'm calling about the email."

"Yeah, I figured," she sighed. "It's impossible-"

"No. Not impossible. I scrubbed it. Took some fancy footwork, but I figured out how it was self-replicating."

"You're shitting me."

He laughed on the line. "Shit you not. Easy once I cracked the code."

"Ryan." She was choked up. Damn. She was a little moody these days, being cooped up in the house. She wanted to go for a run, so badly, but after that nasty email and the perimeter alert, Castle had asked her to please not go outside.

She was really trying here. He better be big time grateful tonight.

"Yeah, yeah," Ryan scoffed. "No big deal. And I remote-installed the program I used onto Castle's server, so next time you connect to the CIA network, it's there for you."

"Thank you, Ry."

"Any time, anything. Give that wolf a nose rub for me."

"Nose... rub?" she said faintly. She was watching James as he tried to climb the dog; she was poised to intervene if Sasha kept standing there, letting him. James would still rather walk with Sasha's aid than on his own.

"Yeah, like an eskimo kiss. We do it all the time. It's our thing."

"You have a thing with my son. How did I miss that?"

"Don't know, Beckett. You must not be looking," he snarked.

She laughed and reached out, gripped James by the back of his jeans to keep him from successfully scaling their poor dog. "No, you little miscreant. No riding Sasha." She kneed off the dog, pushing Sasha to make her escape, but the dog circled back around. "Ryan? You know what. I think it's time we all got together. Dinner here, since Castle won't let me out of the cage."

"Yeah, dinner. That - sounds really good. We've missed you guys. Suspension is almost through, right?"

"Right." She grinned into her son's peeved face, picked him up carefully and turned to deposit him on the couch. He giggled as he bounced, and then he rolled over onto his belly, feet up and kicking. "We've missed you guys too. Talk to Jenny and find a time that works. I'll talk to Espo and Lanie."

"Yeah, awesome. Just the precinct folk?"

"Just the 12th," she promised, sinking down beside her son.

Oh, fuck. The baked potatoes. She forgot.

"Ry? I gotta go. Dinner is burning."

He laughed even as she hung up on him.

* * *

"Time to get you dressed," he said softly. "Everyone will be here soon."

Castle pulled the kid out of the high chair but at that moment, Kate came slinking into the kitchen with the dog, slipped in front of him. She smelled like honey and flowers, her hair was - shit, what did she do to it? - and Castle was momentarily stunned.

"Wow," he got out.

"What?" she breathed. "I'll take him. He's clean, right?"

"Just finished eating," he said mechanically. "Yeah. Yeah, I cleaned him. Wow. Kate."

"What?" She took James from him and cuddled, cheek brushing the top of the boy's head. "Oh, a sleepy wolf. Daddy got you all full and happy, huh?"

"Kate. Fuck. You look hot. Why are you so hot?"

She laughed, lifting her eyebrow and swaying a little with James in the middle of the kitchen, somehow both his son's mother and a fucking-hot covert agent.

"Why am I so hot?" she drawled slowly.

"I meant. I was - you're just - you're always sexy, but this is like - fuck me." He groaned and scrubbed both hands down his face. "I have to get dinner finished. They'll be here in an hour. Why are you so damn hot, fuck."

"Uck!"

"Oh, shit," he groaned. He dropped his hands from his face and cupped James's cheeks, leveled a look on him. "We talked about that, Jay. No repeating the bad words. Your grandfather might kill me."

"Nah," Kate chuckled. "Not for that." She gave him a slow smile and reached out a hand, closed it around his tie. "Especially not when you're complimenting me with all those bad words."

"Seems wrong, doesn't it? Cursing at you is a compliment?"

"Seems very, very right," she murmured back, tugging on his tie. He dipped but didn't have to go far; she was wearing knockout heels tonight too. His mouth touched hers and lightly glazed-

"Damn. I gotta do the glaze," he whispered against her lips. She hummed and kissed him again, not releasing him at all, and he framed her hips with his hands, bumping the baby only to get bumped right back.

"Daddy," James stage-whispered, croaking it right under Castle's chin. "Daddy, Mama. Uck, uck."

"You read my mind," Kate grinned, eyes sparking on his. Castle laughed back, feeling breathless, and brought his hand up to brace the boy, ducked his head to smack his lips against James's cheek.

"Kiss for you too. Now go with Mommy. She's gonna dress you up for tonight." He caught Kate by the elbow before she could turn to leave, let his eyes caress her long and slow so she knew. "You look beautiful, Kate. Happy. You glow with it."

And she did. She lit up for him, lit up the whole world, dressed only in a simple black sheath and a little eyeliner, short hair brushing her neck, carrying their son in her arms.

It had been a while since merely breathing made him feel like the luckiest man in the universe, but tonight, he'd been struck all over again by just how beautiful she was. Not just her health, not just being alive, but _her_. Kate Beckett, this woman who had married him and hadn't given up on him and gave everything to have this moment with him in their kitchen.

"Kate."

"Hey," she smiled. "I love you." Her mouth came in and touched his, her hand lightly skimming his cheek. "I love you just the same. Don't get sappy. You'll make me cry and I'm not redoing my mascara."

He laughed, and James laughed too, chuckling like he knew exactly - he couldn't possibly - and Castle released her. Finally let her go.

She took the baby and carried him to the living room where he saw that she'd left his clothes on the coffee table.

They were still avoiding the stairs, but it was turning out to be a really good week.

* * *

It didn't feel right not including Jenny in the conversation, but Castle was insisting that was up to Ryan. So Kate asked Jenny to take James with her as she went upstairs with Sarah Grace, gave her son over to Ryan's wife.

"Mama?"

"Night-night, wolf. Daddy will come upstairs to kiss you in a minute." She smudged his lips with a kiss and he gave her a shy smile, dropping his tired head to Jenny's shoulder. Sarah Grace was already upstairs, asleep in Castle and Kate's bed, surrounded by pillows.

Jenny winked at her and carried the kid off, and Kate turned back around under the pretense of dishing up dessert. Everyone was mingling in the kitchen anyway, refilling wine glasses, laughing, having a good time, but Castle quickly called them to order.

"Ry, up to you what you do with this info. Leave her out of it, or tell her everything - your discretion. Lanie, you know parts, Espo, man, sorry. You know almost none of this."

The kitchen stilled and dropped into absolute silence. Esposito shot Castle a scathing look and then turned to her. "You think I don't know this?"

She opened her mouth, closed it.

"What. You think I wasn't a detective? John Black -his asshole father - makes life fucking hell for you, and you think I wouldn't notice?"

"Okay," Castle said, stepping in front of her like she needed protection. But Kate got her hand on his back and moved him aside.

"Espo. It's not about you. It's about James. Who we tell, what we tell - it's to keep his name out of it. You know that. Don't be angry about that."

"I'm furious," he growled, rounding on her. But Lanie was there, Lanie who had been so mad at her as well, back when they'd discovered why James was small and not growing.

Lanie put a hand on Espo's arm, drew him away. "Javi. Shut up and listen to them."

Castle was giving Esposito a measuring look, but Kate fisted his shirt, nudging him out from between her and Espo. "We don't have a lot of time before Jenny comes back down - though James might take a while to convince."

"Oh no," Ryan said, shaking his head. "She's the baby whisperer. You watch. I'm betting you got - oh, ten minutes starting now."

Kate laughed, appreciating his attempt to lighten things, but she knew Ryan was also the one of their group who had the most pieces of this puzzle. She sobered quickly, trying to organize her thoughts; they had both agreed she'd be the one to do this. Her 12th Precinct family.

"Okay, here it is. Plain facts. John Black started a program nearly fifty years ago designed to create a more perfect soldier. It's possible he was thinking only about covert ops - a made-to-order super soldier who could go behind enemy lines fearlessly. He was his own guinea pig, injecting himself with a variety of serums to alter his body chemistry."

Lanie had her arms crossed over her chest; this was old news to her because she was included on their medical team reports. But Ryan's mouth had dropped open. He hadn't known it went back so far.

Kate glanced to Castle and he took over - this was his part of the story anyway. "We've put this together based on things I was told, things Kate has been told, and then we corroborated it with second parties - Saber, Boyd, Eastman when he was alive, Carrie, and finally those documents we rescued from the Congo installation. What we're telling you tonight is valid information."

She watched her friends, studied them as they absorbed the scope of this project.

"He had to stop using the program on himself when he joined the CIA, but by that time, he'd developed a rather extensive and complicated set of supplements. He took that research with him, and the CIA began funding human trials. At that time, they were doing a lot of strange stuff - ESP tests, telekinesis, even LSD trials. My appearance on scene was - well, considered to be a mistake, most assuredly. He never meant to get a woman pregnant. We have some indications that John Black was having attacks - either health scares or well-"

"Fugue states," Kate corrected. "I'm almost one hundred percent certain. He's mentioned a few things, plus we've decoded pages which have to be his earliest medical records. He was experiencing lost time."

"Not alien abduction?" Ryan piped up.

They all gave out smiles, trying at least, and Kate went on. "Black kept Castle's existence on his radar; he seemed rather appalled it had happened at all. But when Castle didn't show any signs of getting better - allergies as a kid, lots of illnesses, poor growth - Black began dabbling with Castle's own body chemistry."

"When I was five, he gained custody of me. The program began then."

"Shit," Lanie said, shaking her head at them. "That is awful. Rick Castle - that is _awful_."

Kate smiled at her friend, but her heart was soaring a little for her husband, because of just how good and strong and _kind_ he was despite his upbringing. Despite who had raised him.

"It's - it was just my life. I honestly didn't know there could be better. I grew up on the training field, grew up the new guinea pig. By the time I'd hit adolescence, I had one injection a year and pills I had to take. By the time I was in the CIA, doing ops, it was a full course of the regimen after every major injury, and a maintenance plan in the off season. He had regimen support teams nested across the world, so that no matter when or where, I had access. He had access."

"Hurry," Ryan said suddenly. "Jenny just texted me - she'll be on her way down soon." He held up his phone and showed them a photo Jenny had taken - it was James, completely conked out in his crib.

"Shit," Kate said, laughing a little. "She really is the baby whisperer."

Castle was smiling down at the photo; he released the phone back to Ryan and sank against the kitchen counter. "Real fast then - here's the lowdown: the CIA stopped funding human experiments, but here I was, needing the regimen regularly, dependent on it. So Black went to outside sources for his money and a sympathetic lack of morals. That group is known as the Collective. Allies of the old world, including the Russians who have started to undersell to the Chinese."

"The Chinese," Esposito said, narrowing his eyes at them. He jabbed a finger in Castle's direction. "That why you came to my house in the first place?"

"That's why he was at the 12th, yes," Kate answered quickly. "His father had to run missions on both sides of the blanket. He had to get Castle to do what was necessary to provide the Collective with their blood, but he also had to work against them with the CIA. It's - impressive - that he deceived us all for so long. Not even Castle knew that he was working against the CIA at times."

Castle grunted as they heard footsteps on the stairs. "All this to say - my DNA is fucked up. James inherited it - whatever it is - and if you want the medical side of it, you can ask Lanie or Logan. The Collective wants what they think is theirs, my son, myself, the program. They don't know we exist, at least not that we can tell. So what it means for us is that we're working on two fronts here - against the Collective to hide the human program, and against the CIA itself to keep us hidden and off the covert intelligence radar."

"We didn't want you guys in the dark any longer, because you're our family. It matters what happens to you guys, and it might mean your lives - your being aware of the larger picture. It might - it might mean James's life."

"Hey, wow, you guys are super quiet. Good job. James is totally asleep and I checked on Sarah Grace too."

They turned as a group towards Jenny as she came through the dining room and into the kitchen. Kate hadn't even started to plate the dessert. Jenny came to a slow stop beside Ryan and glanced around.

Ry cleared his throat. "Got something to tell you."

"Oh no," she whispered, a hand to her mouth. "Who died?"

The room broke into disjointed laughter, and Jenny flushed. Ryan shook his head.

Beside Kate, Castle shifted, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together, his grip strong, sure. In the beginning he hadn't been at all happy with her, with the way she kept bringing people into their circle, but she knew now that he was - well - overwhelmed by the support of their friends.

"No one died," Castle said finally. "And we're going to keep it that way."

* * *

Jenny was sitting down at the kitchen table with Castle's wife, but she had both hands pressed to her mouth, her eyes riveted on Kate with horror. The events at Paris were a lingering malaise in the atmosphere of the room, and Castle felt it most of all.

"But Castle was there," Kate finished up, turning her head to look at him. He stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen while Ryan had taken a seat with Jenny at the table. Esposito and Lanie were standing with their backs to the windows, and Espo had his arms crossed and his chin tucked into his chest, not happy.

"Not that I was much help," he said, trying for lightness. But it came out bleak, and everyone in the kitchen heard it.

Jenny dropped her hands and pressed them to the table. "So you had - you're _still_ sick with this?"

"I'm getting back to normal."

"You weren't shot?" Jenny went on, a flick of her eyes up to Esposito that told Castle the two boys had talked.

"She wasn't shot," Castle said firmly. "But she needed the time off for this recovery, and it lined up for us."

"And your father, this John Black, where is he now?"

Kate snorted. "He's gone to ground, wherever that is. He emails me, trying to - well, I guess keep him in the thick of things? He won't let us forget that he saved my life."

"He won't let it go - the program," Castle said, shaking his head. "Before Paris - the whole reason we were even _in _Paris was because he was blackmailing us. Of a sort."

"Blackmailing you," Jenny echoed. She turned another glance to Ryan and the man nodded, as if in _go ahead_. "Is that what Kevin's been doing? Helping you guys in the CIA with all this computer stuff."

Kate rubbed her forehead. "I tried not to pull any of you into this - I tried. I just-"

"We're in this," Esposito said hotly. "We're already in this. Who busted you out of that embassy last year? Got the doc out?"

"Embassy?" Jenny asked, shooting Espo a bewildered look. Even Lanie hadn't been in on that one, and Espo glanced around, realized he'd said too much, just like that. That fast, and state secrets had been exposed.

"Yeah, okay, the embassy," Castle muttered. "A doctor on our medical team was kidnapped and we went in and got him back."

Jenny blinked. "Who - why - kidnapped?" she echoed faintly.

"The Collective," Kate sighed. "They were systematically going down a list."

Jenny turned to Ryan. "Are you on this list? Who's on this list? Why-"

"No, no," Ryan said quickly, but then he blanched and looked at them. "There's not - I mean, there's no list really, right?"

"There's no list of - no, not support personnel."

"That's not reassuring," Jenny choked out.

"The Collective has focused their attention on the doctors, the scientists, the medical side of the program. They don't care about agents in the field. They don't even know Castle exists," Kate said quickly, leaning in to clasp Jenny's forearm. "We're not telling you this because we think you're in danger. We're telling you this because you deserve the truth if you're going to be involved."

"Involved. What if - but the Collective sounds like they're just outside the door. They were after you in Paris. They took a _doctor_-"

Castle stood up straight. "And we got him back. We protect our own. We won't leave a man behind. No matter what."

Jenny didn't seem to be consoled by that thought, though Esposito was giving Castle the head-nod, a sign of respect that Espo had been withholding since Paris.

So Castle pressed forward, moving to stand behind Kate at the table. "Jenny, there's no list. The CIA Office is one of _the_ most secure areas that Ry could be, and the Collective is looking for science experiments - not IT guys."

Ryan flashed him a look that Castle ignored, but he hoped the man understood that it wasn't a slight. There was a difference between being forthcoming and being inflammatory. Better that Jenny be assured of her husband's security rather than scared about what he might be doing on any given day.

Kate took up the thread of the narrative once more, folding her hands in front of her on the table. "What this means now is that John Black is out there. And the Collective is out there. And we're here, working to make sure that no one ever hears about our son. About the measures we took to give James what he needed."

"The CIA can't know that Kate went down in Paris because of the regimen. If they know, then the Collective will know," Castle said. "So you're going to hear some lies, you're going to have to remember the official story. As friends of ours from my wife's 12th Precinct days, you might even get asked by reporters about what we've been doing, how the non-profit has been."

"So what am I supposed to say?" Jenny cried out. "That you - you got shot, Kate? Or you were sick? Or-"

"For the cover out there, Kate was sick. The thing about the cover is that it's so close to the truth, we won't have to worry about keeping track of all these different lies. Kate got bacterial meningitis while we were abroad for a holiday, her father took care of the baby for us. Don't offer up James's name, if someone should ever ask."

"How am I supposed to know who's a good guy or who's a bad guy?"

"Don't worry about figuring that out. If it's not someone in this room, or Logan and Mitch - you know them from Kate's birthday party, right? - then you treat them like an outsider. If they're not with us now, they're not one of us."

Jenny nodded, a frown creasing her forehead. He hadn't wanted to bring her into this; very few people were as strong and resilient as Kate Beckett, and as a wife, he was certain that no one could be what she was. Jenny was a school teacher. She-

"All right. Got it. And what about John Black? He's still contacting you. He's still trying to blackmail you. And now that Kate has suffered this - setback - from picking and choosing what elements of the regimen to take, Black's not going away, is he? It's worse now, isn't it?"

Well. He had to hand it to her; she was smart. And faster than he'd expected.

"Good point. I don't know about worse. I think it shows that we have to be a lot more careful about the regimen. Like you said, no picking and choosing. I'm on it regularly now, going to keep doing that, and the regimen team is focusing now on replication. As for Black, he's going to want to get to me somehow. Get to us. That will be ongoing."

"But he's working _with_ us, he thinks," Kate interrupted. "He's working with us. And not the Collective."

"And you're telling us all this because we might be collateral damage," Jenny supplied. "So we'll watch out."

Castle opened his mouth, closed it. He didn't know what to say to that. He didn't want it to be true, but it might be.

"No," Kate sighed. "Not with Black. He's - not interested in anyone else. It wouldn't occur to him to use you guys as bait to get to us because he doesn't understand how anyone can have meaningful relationships with other people. His are always a means to an end. He gets that Castle and I - he thinks I've hooked Castle somehow. He sees that I - his words - I control him - but he doesn't get it. Not at the root. So honestly, you guys don't have much to worry about from him. It's the Collective we need to be careful of."

"The Collective. This group of agents from various countries - including the Russians who in turn sell to the Chinese - they want Castle." Jenny shook her head. "This is - like something out of a movie. You're Jason Bourne."

Kate laughed, but Castle was coming up blank. He shot her a look, questioning the reference, and she turned her head to look at him, as if she knew he had no idea. She laughed harder, reached back to take his hand with hers, squeezing.

"It's a movie series - books first. I'll make you watch it with me. And yeah, there's a kind of Bourne Legacy vibe going on here."

Okay, well, he was lost. Another pop culture reference, he was sure. At least not a former agent he had somehow forgotten.

But Jenny was smiling now, and the whole table seemed more relaxed, and Ryan was holding his wife's hand and giving her these reassuring looks, so whatever it was, it had worked. Jason Bourne, then.

They still had a few points to go over, but he thought it was clear. The Collective was their biggest threat, and his father was just - Castle's own problem. One that he would take care of, when the time was right. When the medical team had a handle on this and the whys of how it worked.

And if that never happened, well, Castle was going to give James the best life he could; he was the boy's father, of course he wanted his son to grow strong. But he wasn't going to put his son's mother at risk any longer. He wasn't going to put her life in jeopardy for a maybe, for a _just in case_.

Besides. In Paris, Logan had seemed to think that James's system was self-correcting. That his mitochondria had worked to heal the problem of the unfettered regimen, had worked to right himself without any help. It was why the infusions had worked in Kate too.

Which meant they had absolutely no need of John Black.

Castle would be on the program as he always had been, the team would replicate the serum, and that was it.

Black was done.

* * *

When she was certain that Castle slept, Kate slid out from under the heavy drape of his arm and off the bed. With her bare feet soundless on the floor, she walked lightly down the hall to her son's open door.

There was no moon, but the dog was lying below the window and her head came up when Kate entered, her animal eyes circles of orange in the darkness. Kate went to Sasha first, kneeling on the floor to stroke down the dog's back, cupping her ears before smoothing her ruff. She leaned in and kissed the wolf between her eyes, the softest fur right there over the hardest skull.

"Thank you," she murmured, not sure why she kept attributing super powers to her lone wolf-dog. Watching over her family, keeping James company while his parents were detained and at risk, herding the boy even when they weren't or couldn't. "Good dog. Good wolf. Both."

Sasha was both wild and tamed, predator and pet. Maybe their Sasha had always appealed to Kate so keenly because she was an animal whose nature was constantly at war, just like Rick Castle.

Just like Kate herself. When Castle had met her, she had thought he was the one in civil war, but she had been too - her mother's case, her mother's death had been the demon possessing her. And then when she'd entered into this man's world, she'd been both CIA agent and NYPD detective, and the two sides were always in conflict. To protect and serve or to secure the nation using any means necessary. Kate at war with her nature; Castle at war with his nurture.

"You fit right in with us, puppy," she murmured, releasing to dog to stand once more.

And then she didn't keep herself from James any longer; she went straight to the crib and her sleeping son.

Only. He was awake, and he was watching her in shy silence.

Kate's breath caught, not sure why James was awake or if tears would come now that he knew she'd seen him. But there were no dramatics, no climbing the bars to get at her, just his bashful, slow smile as their eyes met.

He lifted a hand and did his _gimme gimme, _that opening and closing of his fist, wanting her.

Kate reached in and caught his wrist, rubbed her thumb into his opening palm. "Hey, sweetheart. Why are you awake?"

James didn't answer, of course, but he did roll over and pull himself up by the bars, rest his little cheek on the top railing as he looked at her. "Mama."

"Yeah, wolf, that's me. Hey, sweetheart. You awake for any special reason?"

Kate smoothed the hair down on his head, felt the damp curl of heavy sleep. So he had been asleep at one point tonight; maybe he had woken when she came in the room and disturbed the dog.

"I'm sorry, Jay. Didn't mean to wake you. Want to lie back down?"

"Ma-ma-ma," he chanted, lifting his head from the rail and reaching for her.

She took him, unable to help herself, and cuddled him against her chest, where he seemed perfectly willing to go. Still tired then, and drowsy even as he laid against her, and his little fist clutched her sleep shirt. He was wriggling down against her, melting to her skin.

She kissed his sweaty neck and the side of his face, the scent of the lavender bath soap and his mild shampoo in her nose. His pajamas still held that clean from the laundry smell, and she took a deeper breath, relishing it.

She hoped she remembered this moment, twenty years from now when he was a young man away from them, ten years from now when he thought it wasn't cool to have his mother kiss him, five yeas when he was getting in trouble and asking a thousand questions. The feel of his heavy body against her and the way he grounded her to the here and now.

How good it was, to steal a moment with her baby in the dead of night and know they were safe, and loved, and everything was going to work out in the end.

Even if she had fears, even if she had doubts, even if she and Castle fought and couldn't see clear, in this moment tonight, she believed. It was going to be just fine. It was going to be beautiful.

James was falling back to sleep.

His head sank heavy against her shoulder, his fist loosened.

She swayed there a little while longer, not even sure why she'd been awake, not sure why she'd come into his room tonight at all. Except she'd felt it in her, like a calling, a need for him.

She loved this boy. This beautiful creation. His life wouldn't be easy and it would be restricted by their secrets, by his heritage, but he would have what neither she nor Castle had ever been able to fully capture - he would have two parents in his life who loved him and each other beyond words.

"Okay, sweetheart," she whispered at his ear. His hair was soft where it brushed her chin. "Back to bed. Daddy would say it's not fair that I got up to hold you when I made him stop."

James didn't stir as she lifted her heavy boy back down to the crib. She found the corduroy elephant in the corner and tucked it into his arm, and then she pulled the soft satin square over his shoulders where he liked it. Finally, she took the thin baby blanket and draped it over him like a cape. Protection against the drafts, a cover for dreams.

"Good night, James."

She went back to bed.

* * *

**The End **of **Close Encounters 25: Role of Honor**

Stay Tuned for **CE 26: Licence Renewed**


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